


Mutually Assured Uncooperation

by princessoftheworlds



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Kree (Marvel), M/M, Post-Season/Series 05 AU, Post-Series 04: Miracle Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24025759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Aliens, time-travelling, resurrections. These are all experiences familiar to not just one but two top-secret organizations that have a hard time keeping a low-profile. Figures that they would encounter each other eventually.Or: the five times that SHIELD and Torchwood had an encounter that neither were pleased with, and the one time they had to work together when two of their own were taken.Or: There's Kree running amok in Cardiff, including a murdered one, and Torchwood is on the case, but so is SHIELD. Also, don't forget the memory-manipulating aliens there too!
Relationships: Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie/Yo Yo Rodriguez, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons, Martha Jones/Mickey Smith, Owen Harper/Toshiko Sato, Past Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson, Skye | Daisy Johnson and Ianto Jones
Comments: 37
Kudos: 88





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this....was an ordeal. Honestly, my two biggest loves in life are Agents of SHIELD and Torchwood. Agents of SHIELD has been with me for sooo many years, and Torchwood is new but I am obsessed. This was meant to be a 15k 5+1 fic of 5 times SHIELD and Torchwood clashed and the one time they had to work together. And it's still that...but it grew, by nearly double. Thanks to Beleriandings and the Bloody Torchwood discord for the title! Thanks to A for listening me ramble about this and for betaing it. Thanks to Jaune-Chat for also listening to be ramble and looking it over. Also, thanks to Ains and JMH gc on Twitter who I've been mentioning this to for weeks now. There's 31k here. I have no posting schedule. If enough peeps make some noise in the comments, I may post the entire thing this week or maybe space it out over the month. I have no idea. I have no plan. I just hope y'all like it.

“ _ The signal is coming from further inside the pub, Jack _ ,” Tosh warns, her voice echoing in Jack’s ear over the sleek comm slipped in his ear. “ _ Towards the backmost end _ . _ That’s where the non-human originator of the signal should be. _ ”

“Amongst this sea of  _ people _ ?” Jack eyes a well-built dark-haired man appreciatively, zeroing in on where the rolled sleeves of his button-down strain against his muscled forearms. “You do know that many species appear humanoid or can disguise themselves to look human, right?” He stalks forward through the crowded pub. “Did I ever tell you about the Zygon who disguised herself as one of my Time Agent partners? You can usually tell a Zygon by the venom sacs in their tongue, but this one was a  _ particularly good  _ kisser.” He sighs. “And those _ suckers _ -”

“ _ Oi, Harkness _ ,” Owen grunts, disgusted. “ _ We don’t want to hear more about your sex life. We hear enough as it is from you and Jones in your office _ .”

“ _ Jack _ !” It’s Ianto, and he sounds indignant. “ _ You told me your walls had been soundproofed! _ ”

Jack snickers, imagining the pink flush to Ianto’s cheeks. He  _ knows _ how far down the flush goes and just how pretty it looks against his lover’s pale Welsh skin. “C’mon, Ianto. They  _ will be _ soundproofed. I just had to push the date back by a week.” When Ianto continues to grumble, Jack smiles fondly. “It’s bloody hard dealing with the workers and having to remember to Retcon them. I needed a bit.”

“ _ Not Harkness-Jones _ ?” Tosh asks curiously. 

Ianto snorts. “ _ Oh, of course not _ .  _ Imagine how puffed-up Jack would become. I’m not bloody adding to his ego; it’s big enough _ .” Ignoring Jack’s mock cry of protest, he continues, “ _ Besides, I couldn’t very well leave Martha as the sole Jones in Torchwood. _ ”

“ _ Jones-Smith, thank you very much _ ,” chimes Mickey at the same time as Martha playfully says, “ _ Thanks, Ianto. I appreciate that. _ ”

“Please,” Jack says, “I could still swoop in and carry Martha off any time I like. She was never able to resist me. What am I looking for, Tosh?”

His gaze roves through the unusually-large pub, searching for a sign of anything non-human or humanoid, as a chorus of groans sound in his ear, Mickey loudest of all. Nothing that he can see, so it must be disguised or a person.

Dryly, Martha replies, “ _ I think that would anger both our husbands, Jack _ .”

“ _ Honestly, _ ” Gwen adds finally. “ _ You’re all sometimes worse than Anwen _ .  _ Jack especially. _ ”

“I’d say that being compared to a literal child would be insulting, but I’ve seen those rather impressive drawings of hers that you pin up to your desk, Gwen.” 

Tosh’s back in his ear: “ _ I’ve scanned the pub, Jack. The signal is coming from the bar. Closest to the door that leads to the back alley _ .”

“Oh, good.” Jack rubs his hands together, mindful of his arm brushing against the Webley and holster hidden beneath his coat. “I could use a drink. All this banter was getting me thirsty.” When he finally parts from the crowd and the bar comes into view, his eyes narrow. “I think I found the source of the signal, Tosh. You kids stay on the line, but I’m muting it for now.”

Of course, there’s an emergency override on their comms that any of them can trigger if necessary, but he could use no distractions for what he’s about to do.

Carefully, Jack approaches the bar and slips onto the lone available seat, leaning forward towards the woman beside him. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he says with his most charming grin, the one that causes Ianto to roll his eyes but most other people to go weak at the knees, “and who are _ you _ ?”

To his surprise, like Ianto, the woman simply rolls her eyes, surprising Jack with the accent that sounds similar to his own. She doesn’t look like a tourist. “I thought I could go my entire life without finding someone who used his own name as a line, but here I am.”

Jack’s smile falters, and he’s suddenly glad he muted his comm. Owen’s probably roaring with laughter back at the Hub 2.0. “That’s not how this usually goes,” he admits sheepishly.

The woman arches a dark eyebrow. “Does that actually usually work?” 

He tilts his head at an angle that he’s been told makes him appear particularly rakish, and his pride flares when he notes a particular spark of interest in the woman’s dark, clever eyes. “You’d be surprised.”

She smiles, further exposing her sharp cheekbones. She’s olive-skinned with vaguely East Asian features and a tumble of caramel-colored hair with dark roots visible and is dressed casually but too military-esque for this pub: a smooth leather jacket shrugged over a dark-colored shirt and jeans tucked into heavy-looking combat boots. “It’s 2020. Should strange older men still be approaching women in bars?”

“I’m not old!” He scowls. She doesn’t look any more than five year younger than the age he was when he was first exterminated, though she’s definitely a few years older than Ianto. “Besides, I’m the head of a top-secret organization, and I’m here on official business.”

“And that coat helps you stay inconspicuous?” she asks in dry disbelief. 

Ignoring her, Jack cuts straight to the point. He places a hand on the wood of the bar, barely even wincing when his fingers slip through something damp that doesn’t necessarily feel like spilt beer. Her eyes follow his movement. He leans a bit further into her personal space. “Did you know that your DNA isn’t 100% human?”

She laughs, expression not showing the least flicker of intimidation. Her eyes reveal nothing. “Is that another line?” She sighs. “At least you’re original.” She taps her fingers faintly against her upper thigh, cocking her head like she’s listening to distant music.

Either she doesn’t know or she’s toying with him. Jack’s eyes narrow. “That’s fun.” He smirks. “That’s one that never works either.” He tries another tactic. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What gave it away?” The woman’s tone is flat. “The accent?” She snorts. “Cause you don’t sound Welsh either.”

“I’ve been travelling,” Jack shoots back. “Now, back to your DNA. Do you have an explanation for me?”

She’s evasive again. “I’m pretty sure that scanning someone without their consent is illegal. If not, it’s at least rude.”

“Not when there’s a threat to national security.” Jack straightens up and flips open his Vortex Manipulator, tapping a few faint buttons until there’s a beep. He reads the results. “Here we have it. 90% human with just below 10% that’s extraterrestrial.” He frowns briefly before shutting the flap. It seems that his Vortex Manipulator couldn’t identify the species. He affects a playful smile again. “Besides, most people consent pretty heavily and loudly when I’m involved.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “There you did it again, and you still didn’t ask.” Her attention shifts for just a moment, her eyes squeezing shut, and too late Jack realizes that there’s a comm in her own ear, has been there all along in fact. She sighs, straightening up. “Looks like my time’s up.” She nods at him. “Pleasant meeting you, Captain Harkness. Next time Torchwood wants something, just ask directly.”

“What?” Jack says flatly, lips pressing together. He doesn’t like being surprised, and he’s usually more observant. It seems that he might be going soft.

Now, she smirks. “Goodbye." Then she stands up and walks silently and swiftly towards the door that leads to the back alley. Jack’s betting that if he tries to chase after her, she’ll have disappeared from the alley.

Immediately, his own comm switches back on, Tosh’s frantic voice in his ear: “ _ Jack, I've got a match! That’s Daisy Johnson. She’s been an agent of SHIELD since 2013. There’s nothing else on her. Her whole record’s been wiped clean, and whoever did it must have been amazing because not even Mickey or I can access it. _ ”

“SHIELD,” Jack repeats. And then he clenches his fists by his side and turns to exit the pub.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen and Torchwood investigate a crime scene containing a dead Kree and face off with SHIELD again - twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied. I posted the second chapter within the same week. Whatever. I hope y'all enjoy it. Please comment or leave kudos to lemme know how much (or if) you like this so far!

“Yes, sweetheart, I know,” Gwen croons into her phone. “I know. I understand. I’ll be home in the evening if everything goes according to plan.” A pause. “Of course. I love you too.”

“That Rhys? Got good evening plans?” Jack, parked in the driver’s seat of the SUV, asks with a dirty smirk. Even married to Ianto, he can’t stop finding innuendo in everything. Of course, if he did stop, then that would be Torchwood’s first indication that there was something wrong with Captain Jack Harkness.

Gwen sighs, and as Jack guns around another corner - eight years away from Earth did  _ nothing  _ for his reckless driving - she clutches the handle on the side of the passenger side door with a white-knuckled grip. “It was Anwen, Jack. Just wanted to know when I would be home.” She doesn’t go into further detail than that. Despite Torchwood having been back for a yearish now, Jack has never formally met Anwen besides his brief fumblings with her when she was a newborn, during that Miracle Day fiasco. Jack may joke about her, but he always flinches away - as he’s doing now - whenever she brings up her daughter.

Just in time, the SUV takes another perilous turn, and then it screeches to a halt next to a little block of park that’s cordoned off, Heddlu and CSI roaming the scene. Through her window, Gwen eyes Sergeant Andy Davidson approaching the SUV, looking predictably annoyed. Well, Gwen had told him that they would be here twenty minutes ago.

“Looks like Mulder and Scully finally arrived,” he bites out when Gwen steps out of the SUV and slams the door shut behind her. On the other side, Jack does the same, locking the SUV with a beep of the keys before smoothing down his coat collar and moving towards Andy and Gwen. She watches the coat  _ swish  _ dramatically against his legs and rolls her eyes; Jack won’t lose a chance to play the bloody action hero.

Gwen offers Andy a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Andy. We got caught up with” - a minor skirmish with a Weevil - “something. But we came as soon as we could.”

Jack comes up besides Gwen, and she braces herself for a hit of those delicious-smelling pheromones. A decade of knowing Jack, and she still hasn’t acclimatized to them. “What have you got for us, Andy?”

“Another spooky do for you.” Andy turns to lead them towards the crime scene.

As Gwen moves to follow him, Jack nudges her and jerks his head toward Andy. She sighs. “Are you sure, Andy? Because last time you called us, it was just a regular homicide.” 

Truth be told, since Torchwood reformed, they haven’t actually as much to do as they used to. With the Rift sealed, apart from the strange spike that brought back Ianto, Tosh, and Owen, most of the alien or non-human that they deal with is human-created or distributed, with occasional debris and activity floating their way from the Doctor’s travels or mishaps.

Andy twists back to face Gwen. “Look, that man had an abnormally deformed skull. I wanted to be cautious. He could have been one of your monsters.” A pause. “Besides, this one is definitely for you and Captain Flash over there. It’s a body. Doesn’t look human.”

“Andy, are you sure-” Gwen repeats.

“Doesn’t look human,” Andy continues, “and is blue. Bloody bright blue. Almost glowing.”

Gwen and Jack exchange a look. Then Jack steps forward.

“Lead the way, Sergeant,” he orders.

They barely get steps closer to where all the Heddlu and CSI are clustered, Gwen managing to catch a glimpse of a body the brightest shade of blue she might have ever seen and definitely right up Torchwood’s alley, before a constable blocks them off. 

“Sorry, ma’am,” he says, nodding politely to Gwen. She squints her eyes at him in attempted recognition; it may have been a decade since she was a PC herself, but perhaps she encountered him on one of their past missions… “We can’t allow you and the Captain access. Orders from above. There’s already a Special Ops team working on this case.”

Gwen schools her expression into something agreeable as the constable returns to the crowd. She turns to Andy. “Really, Andy?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, Gwen. If it’s orders from above, then my hands are tied. I swear, Special Ops were not involved when I called you. Maybe if you’d come faster…”

“ _ Special Ops _ ?” Jack asks, looking disgruntled. The expression doesn’t suit his handsome features. “What kind of Special Ops team could they call to deal with  _ aliens _ ? Even if UNIT hadn’t been suspended, this isn’t their jurisdiction anyways.” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat, rocking back slightly on his heels. “Back in the day, Torchwood used to mean something. We were Cardiff’s worst kept secret.”

“Well,” Andy snaps, clearly at the end of his own tether, “maybe if you hadn’t spent a bloody decade away! Now, Torchwood is just another Cardiff myth.”

Jack’s eyes flash dangerously, and Gwen steps between the two idiotic men, sighing. “ _ Thank you _ , Andy, for calling me. It was wonderful of you to even try. We’re going to leave now. I’ll let you know if there’s anything else we need.”

Andy bites back a reply, but he finally returns to the crime scene, leaving Jack and Gwen in the lurch.

“We’re not leaving, right?” she asks Jack, but with how long they’ve worked together, she already knows his answer.

“Of course not.” A pause. “Here.” To her amazement, he shrugs off his coat and drapes it over her arms. She barely manages to catch it. “If Torchwood is such a myth, they’re not going to recognize me, especially without the coat.” He flashes her that brilliant Jack Harkness grin and heads after Andy.

Quickly stowing his coat in the SUV, Gwen follows. She blends in with the crowd and nods to a few familiar faces from the Heddlu, pretending that she belongs there, before finally joining Jack who is now standing next to the body. As dry foliage crunch under her feet, two nearby techs - a brunette woman and a curly-haired man with a scruffy jaw, both in black windbreakers - glance up from where they are fiddling with some equipment before returning to their work. “What do we think?” Gwen asks Jack.

Jack points to the body. “Take a look yourself.”

Gwen does.

Lying face up, the grass around it crushed and stained a darker blue, the dead alien could almost pass for being human apart from its bright color, some distinctive facial carvings, and its hulking size. If it were standing tall, it seems that it would have at least a head on Jack or Ianto. It’s clad in leather armor with gleaming metal reinforcements and some kind of matching headpiece strapped under its chin. There are dark splotches that Gwen approximates to be bruises scattered across its face along with thin lines that look to be scratches.

Gwen kneels and peers more closely at its face. “Its blood is blue,” she realizes. 

“Yes.” Jack steps behind her, staring down at the body over her shoulder, towering over her. “And?”

She eyes the scatter of dried blood around the body. “It was stabbed in the front, and the force of the blow forced it to fall backwards.” She stares at the alien’s leather-covered chest, noticing the jagged stab that the draping cut of the armor originally hid. She had initially presumed the blood on its armor to be more of its skin. “The imprecision of the wound means that whoever stabbed it had to use a lot of force. I think that they were either human or also alien but not of the same species if we want to assume that this alien is the standard size for its species.”

Jack nods. “And the weapon?” He places his hands on his hips, clearly in Captain mode. Gwen blinks; this could be a decade prior, still her first year with Torchwood, and Jack could be leading her through an investigation, coaxing her until she arrives at his preferred answers.

She stands, dusting her hands off against her jeans. “Likely also alien in origin. That type of stab wound wouldn’t be caused by a normal knife, and the wound doesn’t look like anything I think I’ve seen.” 

“I’ve seen it before,” Jack says, eyes fixed furiously on the leather armor. “I recognize it, but I can’t place where I remember it from. If we can find the weapon, I might be able to name a species or planet.” He sighs. “As for the alien, I’ve never seen it before in my life. I’d  _ remember  _ approaching someone that shade of beautiful blue.”

“So first,” comes a dry voice, approaching Jack and Gwen from further away, “you approach young women in bars, and now, you’re a necrophiliac.” Both of their heads snap up as the speaker - a fit Asian woman with hair dyed a gorgeous caramel that Gwen almost envies - comes into view. She turns to Gwen with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t you take him anywhere?”

De-age the woman by about seven years, soften her facial features, add some baby fat, darken the hair, and the woman will be an exact match for the young girl, droopy-eyed and slack-mouthed in the unflattering camera light, that Gwen recognizes from the SHIELD identification card Tosh had shown her. 

When Gwen had asked what SHIELD was, Jack had described it as UNIT but black-ops and even more furtive than the CIA. "They had a bit of a Nazi problem about five years ago," Mickey had added, frowning. He had then muttered to himself, "I wasn't aware they still existed. Must have gone deep underground."

Now, Jack’s immediate bewildered and guarded expression melts into a blinding grin, and he relaxes his body to appear more friendly and open, stepping a bit away from Gwen. This is Jack on the charm offensive, spreading his arms wide to welcome the newcomer. “Daisy Louise Johnson,” he says. “Born July 2, 1988 to a visiting doctor and his local wife in the Hunan province in China. Your parents were killed in a violent attack on the village not even a few weeks later. You were taken to Saint Agnes Orphanage in Los Angeles where you remained until age sixteen when you ran away, virtually falling off the grid until you became a SHIELD agent seven years ago.”

The aforementioned Daisy stares back at Jack unflinchingly, clearly not intimidated by him. “You looked me up,” she responds. “I looked you up too.”

Jack rolls his shoulders, grin spreading. “Oh, and what did you find?” He rubs his hands together.

“You’re a bit of a legend, Captain Jack Harkness. The Internet claims that you’ve been around in Cardiff since 1869, and the other governments of the world don’t know what to say.”

“What do you say?”

“I’d say,” Daisy begins, completely poker-faced, “that for a man who’s at least a hundred, you don’t look a day over fifty-two.”

Gwen barely manages to cover her smile, and Jack’s smile dies down a bit, but as always, his expression doesn’t drop. “A day over thirty-seven, but thanks! It’s my moisturizer.” 

“Your entire history seems to be full of contradictions like that,” Daisy notes. “You’ve had your Torchwood team in Cardiff at least since 2000, but the first time you really came onto a government database was your involvement with the 456 in 2009 where after the death of one Ianto Jones, your team was disbanded.” Here, Jack’s expression darkens, and he takes a step towards Gwen who places a hidden, comforting hand against his side. “Yet somehow, there’s a marriage license for a Jack Harkness and a Ianto Jones issued by Cardiff City Hall last year. And then there’s also your involvement with the Miracle Day fiasco and the CIA in 2011, but Director Matheson said nothing when I paid him a phone call despite SHIELD’s clearance over the CIA.”

“Good ol’ Rex,” Jack mutters, likely thinking of their disgruntled other immortal. He levels a stare at Daisy. “That’s me.” A pause. “What does SHIELD want with this crime scene?”

“Well, mostly to solve the crime,” a Scottish voice joins in as the curly-haired man Gwen had seen earlier appears by Daisy’s side. He’s holding a black briefcase by his side and nods to Daisy. “Jemma and I are ready.” He turns to Jack and Gwen. “Nice to meet you, Captain Harkness, Ms. Cooper.”

“I don’t think we were ever introduced,” Gwen says politely, but there’s no masking the edge to her voice or the slight tug of alarm she feels in her gut. Still, she feels like she recognizes the man. He was one of the faces amongst the SHIELD agents Tosh had shown them. His name itches at Gwen's mind.

Luckily, Jack remembers. "Leopold Fitz," he crows. A woman appears on the man’s left, his companion from earlier. "Which makes you Dr. Jemma Simmons. Two of the brightest young minds to come out of the UK. SHIELD snatched both of you up before Yvonne Hartman could have. She must have been furious."

Dr. Simmons smiles kindly at Gwen. “Pardon Fitz, Ms. Cooper. He’s not the greatest at social niceties." As Fitz scowls, she turns to Jack with a flat expression. "Fitz and I have been extremely happy with where SHIELD has led us in our life." It's her firm but satisfied tone of voice that has Gwen glancing down at the elegant ring on the doctor's finger, with its twin on Fitz's hand. Evidently, Jack notices too. 

“Nice,” he says appreciatively, but his gaze on the trio is still wary. “I like a married couple with PhDs.” In classic Jack fashion, even that sounds like a blatant come-on.

“We’re married,” Fitz reiterates, gesturing between himself and Simmons. There is a faint smattering of pink across his cheeks, but his wife’s eyes sparkle jovially. 

“I don’t discriminate.”

Daisy, watching these proceedings with a bored air, sighs. “Your husband,” she says to Jack, “must be a patient man.”

Jack smirks. “Patience is one of Ianto’s best qualities, amongst other things.”

Ignoring him, Daisy faces Gwen. “Sorry about this, Ms. Cooper, but SHIELD’s taken over this crime scene. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Gwen nods. “Of course. I’ll drag Jack away in a moment.” She watches as the three SHIELD agents return to the body before turning back to Jack. She tries not to let her irritation show on her face. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on.” As Gwen watches, Jack kneels down and undoes his bootlace before redoing it, hands moving so quickly that she can’t keep track of them. He stands back up with a bounce. “Let’s go.”

Back in the SUV, Gwen allows her shoulders to slump. “Well, that was a bust. We didn’t get anything.”

Jack looks vaguely insulted. “What do you take me for?” He uncoils his hand to reveal a glimmering shard of metal cupped against his palm. “I swiped it when I knelt down.”

She laughs. “Brilliant.” Taking it from Jack’s hand, she examines the metal more closely. It’s a small piece, no wider than several of Gwen’s fingers squeezed together. One edge has a clean cut like it’s swiped through it with a laser while the other is unusually warped and jagged. The shard seems to have broken off from a decorative blade; it’s thin, flat, and feels smooth but when tilted at an angle, Gwen can see delicately-engraved symbols that look like alien writing.

“We can have Tosh scan it when we get back to the Hub 2.0.”

* * *

The Hub 2.0 is housed in a large warehouse along the Cardiff Bay, not far from the Plass. Jack claims that it was built during the Second World War, to which Owen had jokingly replied that their esteemed leader must have hammered in every nail himself. The warehouse was abandoned some time in the last three decades, so it wasn’t too hard for Tosh to wipe its history of existence from Cardiff records and outfit the entire building with a perception filter based off of Jack and Martha’s TARDIS keys before Torchwood moved in. 

The warehouse itself was originally two-storied, but through the work of local construction workers, Retcon, and a little of the alien tech Gwen had managed to scavenge from the ruins of the Hub explosion, they managed to install an underground level for the cells - now housing a few Weevils and a Hoix - and a few interrogation rooms. The ground-level floor is home to their workstations and the autopsy room while the top floor holds Jack’s office, the new boardroom, and Ianto’s domain - the new Archive, which are practically empty. With nearly a hundred-fifty years of Torchwood Three history missing or destroyed, Ianto has had to rebuild their collection from the ground up. The Archive contains only the tech of Gwen’s efforts and what they managed to track down from eBay or alien collectors. 

It’s around Tosh’s new workstation that they all try to cluster as she runs a search on the shard of metal Jack stole from the crime scene through the Torchwood system, which thankfully did survive, though Tosh has had to do a lot of coding and restructuring to bring it up to 2020 standards.

“It’s not in our system,” she announces when her computer beeps with the results. “Either Torchwood never came across it, or they did and referenced it in the mission files that were never digitized.”

“That’s odd,” Ianto says, and Gwen watches his brow furrow. “May I?” With Tosh’s nod, he reaches over and carefully lifts the shard, rubbing his thumb gently along the flat side where Gwen knows the engravings to be, tracing the writing. “It doesn’t look or feel like anything I remember from the Archive.” Ianto, with his near photographic memory, is certain. He turns to his husband. "And you're sure you recognize it?"

Jack nods. " _ I know  _ that I know where it's from. I just  _ can't remember _ ." Frustration bleeds into his tone. Gwen tries to keep her sympathy off her face; her team always mistook her natural inclination for caring as overbearing pity. That same inclination has only strengthened since motherhood.

None of them know how long it has been for Jack since Miracle Day. While Gwen, Mickey, and Martha have been tied to following linear time, Jack's neverending life, Vortex Manipulator, and past as a Time Agent mean that it could have been anywhere from ten years to ten thousand years once he'd left Earth following Esther's funeral. Gwen had received no word from him since 2011 until something had deposited Ianto, Tosh, and Owen in the Roald Dahl Plass, alive, almost as if they had been snatched by the Rift mere moments after their deaths. Andy had called Gwen who had called Martha who had called the Doctor. And a week later, Jack had arrived on Gwen's doorstep, hair slightly graying at his temples and several more wrinkles than the last time she'd seen him but still clad in that familiar long greatcoat.

The mood around them has darkened suddenly, and before Ianto can reach Jack's side, Owen has edged over and clapped a light hand on their captain's shoulder. "It's not your fault, mate," their medic says with an uncharacteristic tact. "Memory declines with age. Even a bloke as fit as you can't remember everything if you're older than the Torchwood Institute itself."

"Are you implying that my husband is a cradle-robber?" Ianto deadpans.

"Why, no, Ianto," Martha chimes in, expression gleeful. "As long as you don't deny your attraction to geriatrics."

" _ Excuse me _ ," Jack cuts, aiming for authoritative. "I resent that accusation." He doesn't clarify which one.

" _ If  _ I could have your attention again," Tosh says, tone edged with steel, and all eyes turn back to her. "Although there's nothing in our system, I can still examine the metal the old-fashioned way. With my eyes." She takes the shard from Ianto and drops it back gently to her desk. "Gwen, you said that the stab wound looked like it took a lot of force."

Gwen nods vigorously, stepping beside Tosh. "It seemed like the attacker was weaker than their victim. Maybe the same species but more likely a smaller species or human."

Tosh hums. "So we're looking for two species," she murmurs to herself. Then she sighs, raising her voice. “Based on the current state of the edges, it would seem that there was some kind of energy involved.” Gently, she traces the warped curves. “The piece must have been from the blade of the weapon and probably broke off during the attack or from the impact of the energy.”

That’s all Jack needs. He nods. “Mickey, help Tosh identify the type of energy involved if you can and try to set up a trace. If there’s an energy spike anywhere in Cardiff, I want to know.” To Ianto, he says, “I know our Archive is limited, but see if you can decipher the writing on the metal or at least identify similar languages. Anything could be a lead.” He rubs his hands together. “That leaves Martha, Owen, and me to try and see if we can identify the alien.”

“And me?” Gwen asks as everyone disperses to their various locations in the Hub 2.0.

Jack fixes ancient eyes on her. “Do what you do best, Gwen. Be PC Cooper. Dig up what you can on SHIELD and Daisy Johnson and her buddies, because I have a feeling that technology won’t yield us anything else.”

Gwen rolls her eyes as Jack retreats to his office, Martha and Owen already waiting there. “I haven’t been a PC for over a decade,” she grumbles. “Even if I had stayed with the Heddlu, I would have been at least a DS by now.”

* * *

Surprisingly - in the end, it’s not Ianto’s painstaking attempts to translate the engravings on the metal based on records they have from Torchwood Two that brings them their next encounter with Daisy Johnson and SHIELD. Nor is it Tosh and Mickey scanning the shard with every kind of scanner they have in the Hub 2.0 to identify the energy or Jack, Martha, and Owen talking through every single blue-skinned alien they have ever encountered, which actually turns out to be a wide variety. It is also not Gwen spending hours calling every UNIT contact she can think of around the world and being told that the information she’s searching for doesn’t exist.

No, it’s none of Torchwood’s efforts. Instead, it takes Andy calling with news of a giant strange ship spotted hovering in the sky by some kids in Newport to get everyone armed and packed into the SUV and across Cardiff.

“This cannot be safe,” Martha cries as the SUV hurtles over a speed bump only for them to be yanked into a right turn after Jack’s frantic jerk of the steering wheel. She’s stuck all the way in the back and has to raise her voice to be heard over the vehicle’s keening sirens. She spends most of her time in the autopsy room at the Hub 2.0 and hasn’t had many opportunities to become accustomed to Jack’s driving.

“This is normal Torchwood,” Owen says, and when Gwen glances over at him, her own hands folded in a death-grip around the nearest door handle, he’s grinning from the adrenaline. She rolls her eyes.

Not a moment too soon, the SUV screeches to a halt outside an open field full of weeds that seems to go on for miles. They all tumble out, the doors of the SUV slamming shut. 

Tosh pulls out her smartphone. “Looks like the ship is not for another thousand meters--” she squints at her screen-- “ _ that way _ .”

Owen groans. “You couldn’t have driven a bit closer?” he asks Jack, who is checking his Webley in his holster.

Ianto fixes him with a look of disbelief. “And give up our stealth advantage?”

“Alright, kids!” Jack says, all eyes turning to him. “No more quarrelling.” He brushes off the sides of his coat before straightening his cuffs. “Let’s go.”

They set off across the field, and it’s almost ten minutes later before Tosh signals for them to stop, raising her smartphone again. “It should be around here somewhere,” she says quietly, but when they glance up, there’s nothing around for miles, just grass, grass, and more grass. 

“Perception filter,” Jack presumes. “They never do play fair, do they?”

“We don’t even know who ‘they’ are, boss,” Mickey reminds him. “We’ve just got an unknown ship parked in this field. A ship with a perception filter.”

Jack claps his hands together. “We’ve dealt with perception filters before. You know the drill.”

Gwen focuses her eyes back on the field before her, gaze roving over the area. She knows that there’s something there, but her eyes refuse to acknowledge that fact. However, once she concentrates hard enough, something flickers in her vision, fading in and out of view until it solidifies. Then her mouth drops open.

When she hears Mickey’s sharp inhale and Ianto’s quiet  _ Christ _ , she knows that the rest of the team has seen it too. 

“Ah, the wonders of the universe never cease to amaze,” Jack says, bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement. His smile grows. Besides him, Owen whistles. Martha’s eyes are wide, and Gwen swears that Tosh is drooling.

As revealed to Torchwood, the spaceship is a thing of beauty. Sleek, cylindrical, silver, and gleaming where it catches the light. The metal looks like it could shatter at any moment, but it is likely extraordinarily strong.

“Look familiar?” Ianto asks Jack who shakes his head.

Then there's a monstrous roar that emanates from the ship and causes Gwen to feel cold fear in her very bones. It's a sound of pain and hauntingly brings back to mind the aching wails of the space whale from a decade prior. 

The team exchanges alarmed glances, and they barely wait for Jack to give a slight nod of permission before they set off racing towards the ship. Gwen can feel the adrenaline thrumming through her veins as the grass and weeds crunch beneath her quick strides.

Like the ship, they appear seemingly out of nowhere, but Gwen knows that this is no trick of the light, no perception filter. They didn't teleport there either; Tosh's smartphone would have sensed something, but seeing how well-cloaked they were, their technology might be too advanced for Torchwood's tech. Which is enough to raise Gwen's eyebrows.

Either way, one moment they aren't there, the next moment they are. 

It's sudden enough that Owen, racing towards the ship, skids to a halt and unholsters his gun, aiming it at the newcomers. "Who  _ the fuck  _ are you?" Behind him, Tosh and Mickey are following his lead. Martha looks more cautious, but Jack and Ianto are still behind Gwen.

As she arrives beside Martha, Gwen's fingers itch toward her own gun, but she forces her gaze towards the newcomers.

Five individuals, three of whom she recognizes. Daisy Johnson in a black Kevlar uniform with purple piping, a black utility belt slung around her waist and sleek, black gauntlets pulled snug on her lower arms. Her hair is swept dramatically over her shoulders. Behind her are Agents Fitz and Simmons, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Then there's also a dark-haired man who bears a faint resemblance to Fitz and Simmons and a Latina woman with dark eyes and hair coiled into two braids. Beneath the sleeves of her fitted jacket poke two metallic hands. Gwen presumes them to be armor of some kind. All five but Daisy have pulled sleek guns into their hands.

"I could say the same to you," Daisy says coolly to Owen. 

Quickly - before Owen can spit out a reply, Jack pushes his way to the front, Ianto close behind him. "Owen, put your gun away," Jack orders, his tone leaving no room for questioning. "Same goes for the rest of you." Slowly, they obey before Jack turns to Daisy with a familiar wide grin. "Daisy Johnson...time was the third time I met someone meant an invitation to their bedroom."

"Harkness,  _ how  _ do you not have a sexual harassment lawsuit pending?" Daisy asks, shifting her feet and crossing her arms before her chest. Her face remains impassive. Behind her, the unfamiliar dark-haired man snickers before both Fitz and Simmons shush him. 

"Hey! That's Ianto's line." Jack scowls goodnaturedly, but he still props his hip out, allowing his coat to fall to reveal his holstered Webley. Ianto rolls his eyes, as does Daisy. "Now, why is SHIELD following me everywhere I go?"

"We could ask the same of Torchwood," Daisy replies. Behind her, the Latina woman begins to impatiently tap her feet against the grass. Gwen eyes the motion. "How did you even find out about the ship?"

"We got a call from our police contact," Gwen says cautiously. She doesn't want to get Andy into any kind of trouble.

Daisy sighs. "The Heddlu were instructed to keep their mouths shut."

Gwen bites back a remark.  _ Typical Americans _ , she thinks.  _ Always swanning in and taking over _ . With a smidgen of fondness, she recalls Jack and Rex butting heads. Oh, the tables had turned there. Jack had fit in fine with his faux-Americanness, but Gwen had become the lone Welshwoman out.

"What the Heddlu do is none of your concern, Johnson," Jack says sternly. "SHIELD has no place in Cardiff. I'm afraid that I'm going to have you ask you and your lovely friends to leave."

“Nice try,” says the dark-haired man from SHIELD, “but this is SHIELD’s jurisdiction! You’re gonna have to leave instead.”

“Deke!” Daisy hisses, turning back to the aforementioned Deke and losing her careful composure for a moment. “Shut up.” Deke’s obedient to clamp his mouth shut, but he still rolls his eyes.

“Honestly,” Fitz grumbles, shooting Deke a furious stare.

Smoothing her features into a faint smile, Daisy faces Jack again. “Agent Shaw still has a point. Under the UN’s authority, especially now that UNIT has become defunct, the investigation of this ship is SHIELD’s responsibility. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, Captain.”

Finally, Jack gives up any pretense of being polite and scowls at Daisy. “It seems that we have reached an impasse.” They glare at each other for a long moment.

“If you are done comparing dick sizes,” the unfamiliar woman from SHIELD snaps in a slight accent, “shall we actually go inside the ship?”

Daisy breaks from her staring contest with Jack and sighs. “Right, Yo-Yo. Let's get to work.” To Jack, she says, “Captain Harkness, unless you wish to hear from the UN, you’ll have to leave. Torchwood doesn’t have the same power it had a decade ago. Canary Wharf was the beginning of your end.”

Besides Gwen, Ianto stiffens with fear, but it would be unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know him well enough. Gwen can only tell from the slight clenching of his jaw. “I would say that the Battle of the Potomac was SHIELD’s equivalent,” he offers.

Daisy’s expression darkens. “You may be right, Mr. Jones, but unless you want your husband and your team to face down the United Nations, I would suggest that you leave.”

Jack visibly bristles; he doesn’t do well with Ianto being threatened. “One day,” he promises Daisy with quiet menace, “I will figure you and your DNA out.” His eyes light up with an ugly gleam before he smirks. “You know, there was another Agent Johnson who tried to threaten me and my team. Look her up, see what happened to her.”

“I assure you,” Daisy bites back, “I did. She got what she deserved. I have no conflict with you, Captain. I simply believe that SHIELD is better for this investigation with Torchwood, and for us to actually conduct our investigation, I will have to ask you a third time to leave.”

“This isn’t over.”

Daisy holds his stare again. “It really isn’t.”

Eyebrows furrowed together, Jack exhales heavily. Then he nods, and slowly, painfully, he turns and leaves, gesturing for the team to follow. Mickey and Owen gape behind him.

“You can’t be serious!” Owen murmurs as they stride away without glancing back. “Why the fuck did Jack listen?”

Martha falls into step beside him. “Johnson was right. SHIELD had jurisdiction there over Torchwood. We’re not even supposed to exist right now. If Jack tried going toe-to-toe with the UN right now, things could get ugly.” She sighs. “Things are not good for organizations like ours right now. We aren’t trusted. SHIELD is grasping on to whatever authority it has. In the eyes of the law, UNIT doesn’t exist besides Kate Lethbridge-Stewart’s best efforts. Even MI6’s analyst was made a laughingstock.”

Gwen glances down towards the ground.  _ Next time _ , she swears silently,  _ SHIELD won’t get the upper hand on Torchwood _ .


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy's tired of Wales, Fitz struggles with the alien ship, and Daisy and Jack Harkness squabble over a Weevil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying this! Please comment or leave kudos or anything if you want me to post the next chapter soon lmao. Consider it a bribe for me.

Daisy hasn’t been this stir-crazy for a mission to finish in so,  _ so  _ long. They’ve been in Wales, Cardiff specifically, for three weeks, and if she sees more green fields or another cow, she’ll fucking scream. The rest of the team is taking it well; Mack, Yo-Yo, and Piper are pleased with the change of scenery. Fitz and Simmons are overjoyed to be back in the UK for so long. There’s been talk of taking Deke to visit his ancestral homes and his great-grandparents.

But Daisy, who’s been taking point on most of this, is exhausted. SHIELD’s been tracking a couple of Kree who have apparently been roaming around Wales - what do they want with the Welsh? - but apart from a crime scene starring one murdered Kree and a missing non-Kree weapon, there’s been no sign of them. There’s also the ship they found yesterday, but Deke, Mack, and Fitz are still working on the several alien locks that make it inaccessible to them. It remains in the field that they found it but cloaked, just the Zephyr which is semipermanently parked a few yards away.

The constant encounters with Torchwood aren’t helping either. Captain Jack Harkness smells like a walking candy bar and is old Hollywood-handsome with blue,  _ blue  _ eyes and that damned rakish grin. The ridiculous coat only  _ adds  _ to his charm in a way Daisy cannot understand, and if he weren’t married, she wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree because Daisy’s been single for too long. His husband is unbelievably cute too, although a bit young, though it gets even more confusing when you add Ianto Jones’s birthdate and the death certificate from September 2009. In fact, the entire Torchwood team is unbelievably attractive - based on Harkness’s repute, that’s on purpose - and doesn’t make sense on paper. Anyways, despite Daisy’s - slight, she’ll claim - attraction to Harkness, he keeps getting underfoot of SHIELD, and judging from his expression yesterday, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to her.

Daisy would prefer for that not to happen, even if she doesn’t believe Torchwood and their leader capable of getting the upper hand on her and SHIELD.

So that leaves her here, stuck in Wales, looking for incredibly evasive Kree, facing off against an enigmatic Captain Jack Harkness whose records SHIELD can't make heads or tails out of.

* * *

“Any luck, Fitz?” Daisy asks when she pokes her head into the Zephyr lab several days later. “Have you made any headway with the ship?”

Glancing over from where he’s hunched over the scattered pieces of a disassembled scanner, Fitz sighs. “I will make progress if you bloody  _ stop asking _ .” He sounds extra Scottish today, which is a real relief from all the Welshness Daisy’s heard so far; his accent is thickened by his exhaustion and exasperation. 

“This is the first time I’ve seen you today since lunch?” She fixes him with a critical look. “Who else has been asking you?”

“Deke.” Fitz spits his grandson’s name out as if it’s something distasteful; although he has finally started to - slowly and slightly - warm up to SHIELD’s errant time travel paradox, Deke somehow makes it still quite easy to slip back onto Fitz’s bad side. “He’s been bouncing about the lab all day. He is trying to convince me to allow that company he’s somehow managed to find to take a peek at the ship.”

_ Okay _ . Daisy can think of a hundred-and-one reasons of why  _ that _ would be a bad idea. “And where’s Mack?”

“Piper called him away,” he replies, reaching for a screwdriver. His hands are streaked in motor oil. “Something about the Zephyr needed to be worked on.”

Daisy nods and bounces her right foot restlessly on the floor before Fitz frowns. Quickly, she stills her movement. No matter how good her SHIELD training may have been, it hasn’t been able to completely drive away the fidgety energy that Skye had always had, and if anything, the recent few days has amplified it. “I could quake the ship open,” she offers.

As expected, her offer is immediately rejected when Fitz finally whips his head up and glares at her. “You want to expose foreign  _ alien technology  _ to an earthquake when we have  _ no idea _ what effect that could have on the ship?” A beat. “That’s the  _ worst idea  _ I’ve ever heard!”

She rolls her eyes. “It was just an offer.” Under her breath, she murmurs, “Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard worse ideas. One of the rookies perhaps?”

At that moment, Deke, hair wild and eyes alight, comes crashing into the lab. “Bobo! I’ve got it!” He waves a small black disc clutched in his hand.

“What, Deke?” Fitz asks irately, but Deke doesn’t notice his grandfather’s tone.

“Since nothing’s been working on the ship, and you and Mack don’t want to risk the tech, I figured that we could run a simulation to see might work,” he says, hands moving rapidly enough that Daisy’s surprised that his grip hasn’t slipped on the disc. “I pulled some of my old specs from the Framework I resurrected back in my time-”

But “simulation” is all he had to say. Fitz drops his screwdriver to the table with a quiet clang, back stiffening. Daisy’s hands curl into fists by her side. She breathes deep enough, steadies her mind, and focuses, reaches out for the innate vibrations of the metal of the Zephyr and of the glass that surrounds her.

Deke hasn’t noticed their reactions; he’s still going on excitedly.

“ _ No _ ,” Fitz says abruptly, cutting Deke off. “No simulations!”

As Deke protests, preparing to argue, though Daisy knows that there is no way that he’ll win this round, not with everyone’s trauma and mistrust, she decides to slip out. It’s time for her to get off the Zephyr for a little while.

* * *

“Why are there no bars here?” Daisy asks as she and Simmons walk down the sidewalk, searching gazes cast over the buildings on either side of them. “There’s a pub on every block but no regular bars.”

“There are,” Simmons replies, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “We just have to keep looking. If not, we couldn’t go wrong with a pub.”

Before Daisy can reply, there’s a clattering sound from the alley across from them. She whips her head around, eyes narrowed, and tries to peer into the darkness but can see nothing. Her hand creeps towards the gun holstered at her waist, and when she turns to exchange glances with Simmons, she notices the other woman doing the same. 

There’s another clatter, louder and closer this time, sounding like metallic trash cans being knocked about, and Daisy locks eyes with Simmons again.  _ On my count _ , she mouths, hoping that her lips are visible in the faint light from the streetlamps. She holds up a hand in countdown just in case. 

_ One _ . 

Slowly and quietly, they begin to advance towards the alley. Simmons moves in on Daisy’s right, her gun raised in one hand and a small device in the other. Daisy recognizes it as one of the emergency flashlights engineered by Fitz that he and Simmons perpetually keep on themselves.

_ Two _ .

Daisy cocks her own weapon and creeps just a little bit closer to the mouth of the alleyway where darkness seems to be clustered and no light can penetrate. The clattering continues briefly, and she even hears a low animalistic groan.

_ Three _ .

With a nod of approval from Daisy, Simmons tosses the flashlight into the alleyway with a quiet clack. The groaning ceases. Then there’s a harsher predatory snarl that causes the hair at the back of Daisy’s neck to stand on end. She counts down the delay of the flashlight response. 

“ _ Now _ !” she cries, and almost as if on command, a bright light flares from the flashlight, so blinding that Daisy and Simmons have to glance away for a moment. When Daisy glances back, she can make out a figure in a maintenance worker’s jumpsuit. It could pass for human if not for the deformed facial structure that makes it appear more like an animal; this creature is definitely not from Earth. “What the fuck?” 

“Just another day at SHIELD,” Simmons says, sighing. She lifts her gun higher.

Still blinded by the light, the creature rears back, growling and snarling. Daisy catches a glimpse of gleaming, razor-sharp teeth as her eyes adjust to the brightness. The creature must also acclimatize to the light, because a moment later, with another spine-tingling snarl, it lunges towards Daisy and Simmons.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ !” Instinctively, Daisy shifts her stance, protectively stepping in front of Simmons. She lowers her gun to one side and raises her arm, blasting the creature backwards with a shockwave. With another snarl, it crashes into the wall, and there’s an audible crushing sound. She thinks she might have broken some of its bones.

“It’s getting back up!” Simmons cries. From behind Daisy, she strains her neck to peer into the brightness of the alley.

“I can  _ see that _ , Jemma,” Daisy bites back, teeth gnashing together. Her shoulders clench, and her spine stiffens as she readies herself for another attack. 

The creature is indeed pushing itself back up, making grunts of pain, and Daisy takes a step closer.

Then there’s a hissing sound, flashes of blue light arcing through the alleyway, and the creature releases a low moan of pain before howling louder and louder. It falls backwards and twitches and seizes for several long moments before finally slumping back down, comatose.

Daisy exchanges glances with Simmons for a moment, stunned. Her attention is quickly drawn by a confident, booming voice. Loud footsteps echo towards them until the approaching figure finally steps into the light.

“It’s a nice night,” says Captain Jack Harkness, his jawline just as impressive as Daisy remembered, “and I thought I would take my husband out for dinner at that new French place.” He glances behind him as a second figure steps into the light. Just as tall as Harkness but dressed in a sharp, well-fitted suit and holding a Taser at the ready. “What was it, Ianto?”

“Le Papillon,” supplies Ianto Jones, smirking wryly, “but if I had my way, we’d be going to Turmeric. I was really craving curry.”

Harkness shrugs. “Potato,  _ potahto _ .” He smiles charmingly. “Well, we were on our way when we got a Heddlu alert about a Weevil.” A beat. “So much for my nice night.”

“ _ A Weevil _ ?” Daisy echoes. 

This time, Harkness and his husband exchange looks before Harkness rolls his eyes. He points to the creature lying by his feet. “ _ A Weevil.  _ An alien.” His tone becomes sardonic and mocking; Daisy was right in presuming that he’s clearly not overly enamored by her or her team. “Did you think that was a human? How is SHIELD training its agents these days?”

“SHIELD has had plenty of interactions with creatures not of this Earth,” Daisy says, head tilted challengingly. Recognizing that, Simmons places a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Ours are usually more...blue.” 

She doesn’t miss the second glance shared between the two men.

“Either way,” says Harkness, “thanks for subduing the Weevil, but we’ll be taking her off your hands.” He pauses. “Ianto, what does she look like to you?”

Jones squints at the creature. “Doris,” he says. “Definitely a Doris.”

“I knew a Doris,” Harkness adds wistfully. “She was one  _ hell  _ of a dancer.”

“You’re naming the creature,  _ that Weevil _ , Doris?” asks Daisy in dry disbelief.

“Personally,” Simmons murmurs behind her, “I think it looks like more of a Mildred.”

Upon hearing that, Harkness chuckles richly. “If you weren’t SHIELD, I think I would like you, Dr. Simmons.”

Simmons doesn’t reply, settling her face into a neutral expression, though her eyebrows do creep towards her hairline, and Daisy’s scowl deepens. “You’re not laying a hand on that Weevil!”

Jones cocks an amused eyebrow while Harkness sets his shoulders, the movement swishing his coat out dramatically behind him. “Trust me,” he assures Daisy. “I would not lay a hand on a Weevil. Even I have my limits.”

She can feel her nostrils flare, but she can’t keep her frustration off her face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she murmurs to herself. Then she raises her voice back up as she faces Harkness and his husband again. “I’ll be taking that Weevil. I’d be dead before I allow Torchwood to fuck this up.”

Harkness’s lips press together in a firm line. “Listen here, girlie,” and Daisy bristles at his almost-condescending tone, “I have been with Torchwood and hunting aliens longer than you’ve been alive. By your own admission, you’ve never seen a Weevil before. Think strategically; who do you think is better capable of dealing with one?”

Although Daisy doesn’t miss his accidental - or on-purpose - acknowledgement of his supposed immortality, she still wants to blast the bastard man backwards onto his shapely ass. But  _ no _ , that would only prove his hunch about her more-than-just-human DNA. She curls her hands into fists by her side and forces herself to breathe deeply, trying to keep a handle on her rage. 

“Not to mention that hunting a Weevil was practically our first date,” Jones adds, and Harkness shoots him a wistful look, expression softening a bit.

Simmon steps closer to Daisy, lowering her voice. “Daisy,” she says. “He does have a point. We already have our hands full with the ship. A new alien species might be too much for Fitz and I to deal with.” She pauses. “And after our clash over the ship, Mack does want us to smooth over relations with local authorities.”

“Torchwood doesn’t count as local authorities, Jemma,” Daisy hisses back. She raises her voice to ensure that the two men hear her. “In fact, they  _ barely _ count as anything at all nowadays.”

Harkness affects a hurt expression but doesn’t reply, clever eyes staying fixed on Daisy and Simmons.

Jemma is right, of course, she is. SHIELD definitely doesn’t have their full capabilities, at least not with just the Zephyr no matter how decked out their plane is. And Mack wouldn’t want her picking a feud with the loud, brash captain.

_ Nor would Coulson _ , Daisy realizes with a pang of regret.

She straightens her spine, turning back to Harkness. “You can take the Weevil,” she says slowly, “consider this a one-time gift. We owe you for the ship after all.” Before he can reply, she gently but firmly grabs Simmons by the elbow and begins walking the other woman away. She doesn’t want to see the triumph on Harkness’s face when he realizes he’s won this round.

“ _ Thanks! _ ” comes an amused shout. “Any chance the ship is included in this gift?”

“ _ Fuck you _ , Harkness,” Daisy yells back over her shoulder. She keeps her hands in fists by her side, her fingers straining and beginning to hurt. As they walk away, Simmons rolls her eyes, muttering to herself.

“ _ I think my husband would object to that _ ,” Harkness calls back, but this time, Daisy and Simmons are already too far away for her to reply properly.

“Well, that was pleasant,” Simmons says finally, and Daisy almost breaks into hysterical laughter from her pent-up frustration.

* * *

“You gave  _ a what _ to Torchwood?” Yo-Yo asks in astonishment, gaping at Daisy and Simmons. Nestled into the largest couch of the rec room besides her, Mack looks thoughtful, hand tight on his bottle of beer.

Daisy can feel her frustration, previously kept at bay by the few hours of sleep she’d managed to get after the disastrous encounter with Harkness, rising again. “ _ A Weevil _ . And it’s not like I just handed it over.” 

Simmons, sandwiched between Fitz and Piper on another couch, Deke sitting at her feet, nods. “Daisy definitely protested. Quite a lot.” A pause. “I was the one who convinced her that it would make more sense to let Torchwood handle the Weevil.” She curls further into Fitz’s side, mindful of hitting Deke or Piper with her feet.

After a long moment, Mack clears his throat with a rough cough, and they all turn to face him. “You did good, Tremors.” When Daisy raises a questioning eyebrow, he elaborates, “I did tell you to make friendly with the locals, and in this case, Torchwood does count as the locals.”

Taking a long swig from her own beer bottle, Daisy swallows before nodding. “Yeah, alright.” She sighs. “Still, Harkness gets more and more smug every time I see him. I wouldn’t mind taking him down a peg.”

“Or  _ going  _ down on his peg,” Piper adds, and Deke nearly spits out his Zima in shock. Piper rolls her eyes at him. “ _ Hey _ , you’ve seen him. One-night stands sometimes get too messy, so I need some good fodder for when I’m alone with my vibrator.”

There’s several expressions of revulsion, and someone groans. Daisy thinks it might have been Deke.

“ _ Okay _ ,” Daisy says after another quick swallow of beer. “I think I heard more than I ever wanted to about Piper’s masturabatory habits. I might need to rinse my ears out.”

“I think,” Mack announces as he rises to stand and weaves his way towards the rec room’s tiny kitchenette to abandon his empty bottle there, “that we have all been cooped up inside the Zephyr for far too long. Flying around the world means nothing compared to going home.” He washes his hands and then turns to face the rest of the team. “May and Coulson may have gotten a vacation, but we never did. As soon as this Welsh mess is sorted out, I am mandating that we all take two weeks off and don’t see each other’s sorry faces.”

“Ooh,” Deke says from where he’s still sitting on the floor. “Nana, Bobo, and I can go visit Scotland and see some ancestral sights.”

“That’ll be a time,” Fitz murmurs.

“Oh, and Simmons,” says Mack suddenly, wheeling around to face their biochemist, “just because we let Torchwood have this creature doesn’t mean that we’re forgetting about it. I want a-”

“Full profile of the Weevil,” Simmons cuts in. “I’ll get you everything I can uncover. Biological breakdown, planet of origin, history in Cardiff, etc.” She turns to her husband. “Fitz, might I be able to borrow you for a-”

“Yes, whatever you need, Jemma.” A pause. “At least when I get reprieve from this ship.” He sighs. “I am reaching my wit’s end with it. I might have tried everything.”

“Well,” Deke says, “everything but sonar.” In response to Fitz’s disbelieving expression: “Don’t knock it. We had some very effective sonic tools on the Lighthouse.”

Fitz tosses his head back and barks a very Scottish laugh. “What am I going to make sonic? Sonic keys? A sonic lockpick kit?” He pauses, eyes widening at the ridiculousness of the idea that comes next to him. “ _ A sonic screwdriver _ ?” A moment later, he freezes. “Actually, that could work!” He jumps up from the couch and quickly pats Deke on the head. “Good work, Shaw.” Then he hurries off from the rec room.

“I gave him an idea?” Deke asks in bewilderment, staring after his grandfather like a lost puppy. Daisy chuckles.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torchwood beats SHIELD to a crime scene with mysterious blue crystals with horrible ramifications for Jack. Martha makes a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy???? Comments, kudos, you know the drill lmao

“ _ Nightingale! _ ” comes Jack’s booming baritone, butchering the sterile silence of the autopsy room. “How goes tracking the origins of the knife?” Like light waves, the captain himself appears in the doorway several late moments after his voice reaches Martha.

“Rough,” Martha replies from where she was hunched over the metal fragment from the crime scene with a pair of tweezers and an alien scanner from the Archive. She straightens her sore back, rolling her shoulders and sighing. “Before Owen went home with Tosh, he suggested trying to use the scanner we picked up last month from that collector up in Swansea to identify the energy, but no luck so far.” A beat. “Where’s Ianto? Didn’t you two have a date?”

Jack snorts. “Ianto’s downstairs dealing with our surprise guest.” To Martha’s questioning glance, he elaborates: “A Weevil.”

“Haven’t seen one of those in a while,” Martha says conversationally, but Jack’s focus is stuck on the shard of metal on the lab table. He’s watching it unusually, eyes narrowed in concentration, almost like he’s trying to place it again. He’s done something similar more than a dozen times since he and Gwen recovered it. “ _ Jack _ ?”

“ _ Huh _ ?” Jack blinks once, twice, before shaking his head abruptly. “Sorry.” He refocuses his attention on Martha, giving her that ever-so-charming smile. “Shouldn’t you be getting home to your husband, Martha?”

“I already told Mickey that I would be working late tonight. He’s not expecting me for another hour or two.” Martha gives Jack a pointed look. “ _ Unlike  _ your husband. You and Ianto haven’t had a proper date in ages; trust me, we’ve all been counting to see when our own turns were coming up.”

“Huh.” Jack looks considerate. “I guess that’s what happens when Torchwood is made up of several couples who barely get time with each other.” His smile widens. “Anyways, if you’re staying, I’ve got a task for you.”

“Yes?”

“Ianto and I had a little encounter with Agent Johnson who accidentally let it slip that SHIELD’s had some experience with our mysterious blue fella and his kind.”

Martha sighs again. “I’ll have a list of SHIELD’s encounters with aliens on your desk for tomorrow.” She rolls her eyes as Jack blows her a kiss. “Now, go to your husband.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He delivers her a mock-salute before reaching up to turn his comm on. “Ianto, get in the SUV. I’ll be there in a moment. Our date might be ruined, but our night isn’t.” He pauses, head cocked as he listens to Ianto’s reply. “I’ll make it up to you.” Another pause. “With the thing you like so much. My tongue on your-”

“ _ Enough _ ,” Martha cries, but she’s smiling. And she doesn’t need to see the way that Jack drops his hand from his comm and chuckles to know that Ianto likely had a similar reaction. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jack Harkness.”

“See you, Martha Jones-Smith.”

* * *

Sadly, as Martha quickly discovers to her - and Mickey’s - displeasure, SHIELD has had more alien encounters than they expected. It looks like she’ll have to ask Ianto to take over instead, which will cut further into his already limited time with Jack. Jack Harkness will likely not be pleased, but as the leader of Torchwood, he’ll be understanding.

After a good night of sleep, Martha’s back in the Hub 2.0 as she requests Ianto to continue her work. Predictably, Jack’s pouting, but his dismay doesn’t last long as Gwen appears in the doorway of his office.

“Andy called,” she says. “There’s another mysterious object in a field. A case of blue crystals. If you don’t want a repeat of what happened with SHIELD and the ship, you better get over there, Jack.”

Jack nods. “Right. Ianto, you heard Martha.” When his husband retreats to the Archive, his eyes land back on Gwen. “Martha, you, me, and Owen. We’ll all go.”

“Owen’s working on the Weevil you brought in last night,” Martha tells him.

“And I’m busy sweet-talking the Heddlu so that we can keep SHIELD away,” Gwen adds.

Jack stands. “Alright. Martha, Tosh, and I then.” He claps his hands. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

* * *

The crystals turn about to be almost as blue - according to Jack - as the dead alien from the last crime scene. Blue, slight - almost delicate-looking - but transparent. Beautiful and reminiscent of a vivid blue planet the Doctor had once taken Martha to.

“Has anyone touched any of the crystals?” Jack asks Andy urgently as he kneels down besides the black futuristic carrying case. “We don’t know what effect they could have.”

Andy, standing and peering over Jack’s shoulder, shakes his head. “One of the newer PCs tried to, but some of the other officers managed to yell him away.” He sighs. “We’ve seen what your spooky dos can do.” 

“Thanks, Andy,” Jack replies in an uncharacteristic moment of genuine appreciation for the police sergeant. Then - in a moment of utter Jackness, he smirks. “Now, take your fellas and skedaddle. Torchwood’s got it from here.”

Andy rolls his eyes, but as he tries to slip past Martha, she gently latches onto his arm, briefly stalling.

“Thanks for your assistance, Sergeant,” Martha says. If there’s anything UNIT has instilled in her, it’s an appreciation for titles and hierarchy. “If the Special Ops team shows up-”

“I know, I know,” Andy interrupts. “Keep them away. Gwen already warned me.” With a nod, he begins to move towards the tape and circle of Heddlu vehicles that cordon off the area of the field that Torchwood is currently in.

“Thanks, Andy,” Tosh calls belatedly after him as she fiddles with her smartphone. 

With an enthusiastic bounce, Jack rises to his feet, clapping his hands together loudly. “So what do we think, girls?” When Tosh and Martha both glare at him, he tries again. “Team?” A beat. “Comrades?”

“ _ Nothing I’ve ever seen before _ ,” replies Martha in her best imitation of a Russian accent - which is to say, not a very good one, causing Tosh and Jack to wince. She coughs once and then continues in her normal voice. “No, but really, these crystals are not familiar to anything I’ve seen with the Doctor or UNIT.”

Jack nods. “Tosh?”

Without glancing up from her smartphone, Tosh tells them, “The readings from these crystals are consistent with the energy we identified in the metal shard and in the scans from the ship.” Her device beeps, and she taps at the glass screen, squinting more closely at it. “Also, the crystals don’t seem to match any geographic formation or sample we have in our database or Archive.”

“So basically,” Jack interprets, “you’ve got nothing.” He reaches up to scratch at his head puzzledly. “I don’t have anything either. I don’t recognize the crystals or the case.”

At that moment, Martha hears commotion coming from behind them, and she turns around. SHIELD has arrived on the scene - Agent Johnson and her Latina colleague that Tosh’s hacking has identified as Agent Elena Rodrigeuz, and Johnson, judging by her expression, is currently exchanging unpleasant words with Andy himself.

Jack follows Martha’s gaze to Johnson, and he grins brilliantly. “That’s our cue, ladies. Time to make our dramatic exit.” A beat. “Tosh?”

From the pockets of her fashionable skirt, Tosh has withdrawn a pair of thick rubber gloves that she’s currently in the process of pulling on. She kneels down onto the dry grass. Then she carefully shuts the black case and latches the complicated, futuristic lock before rising, lifting the case by its slim handle. “Let’s go.”

Leading the way, Jack decides to forgo slipping through the invisibility - well, as much invisibility as that flaring RAF coat can afford them - to parade right by Johnson and Rodriguez. Tosh tries to stay on his left, using his body to hide the carrying case, but judging by Johnson’s narrowed eyes, she spots it anyway. 

“ _ Hello _ , Daisy,” Jack calls brightly. “How does it go on this warm, sunny Cardiff morning?” 

Johnson glances up pointedly, scowling. The sky is overcast, and there’s not a single ray of sunshine. “I didn’t know we were on a first-name basis,  _ Jack _ ,” she spits back. 

Martha winces at the amount of venom in her words, but Jack just takes that in stride. He shrugs. “I figured it was about time. We’ve had enough meet-cutes by now.”

“What does Torchwood want here?” Rodriguez asks brusquely.

Jack furrows his brow. “It’s a crime scene...connect the dots?” Johnson appears like she’s about to protest, but before she can get a word in, he affects a concerned expression and checks the time on his smartphone. “ _ Ouch _ , look at the time.” He turns back to Tosh and Martha. “We gotta go.” With a positively smug smirk to Johnson, he says, “See you around, SHIELD.” Quickly, he begins to stride away, and Martha and Tosh follow him wordlessly. Over his shoulder, he calls, “By the way, Doris is doing quite well!”

* * *

“SHIELD’s cybersecurity is top-notch,” Ianto says. He stands at the front of the boardroom while the rest of the team is spread around the long table. Jack is slumped into the seat closest to his husband. “If Tosh couldn’t hack them, I didn’t stand a chance. Thus, I didn’t bother trying.” He inhales sharply, and with a quick flick of his fingers against the remote, the large screen set into the wall behind him comes to life, displaying the grey SHIELD logo that reminds Martha so much so of the UNIT one. “But thanks to CIA and UNIT files, I did manage to uncover a rather interesting history that SHIELD has with the blue alien.” Another click, and the screen displays a hyper realistic computer model of the alien based on Jack and Gwen’s recollections. “They’re called the Kree. Blue-skinned humanoids from a planet called Hala. Based on references from other species, the Kree are highly advanced in science and technology and militaristic.” 

“Sounds a bit like the Judoon,” Martha says as she peers at the screen. She remembers those militaristic rhino police and her first meeting with the Doctor quite vividly.

“I remember the Judoon,” Jack says, shuddering. “They chased me around six different galaxies.”

“And why would that be?” Mickey asks, legs propped up against the table. His eyes gleam with amusement, and Martha stifles a laugh. 

Jack scowls, but his expression is more playful than genuine. “I may, or may not, have sold a faulty transmat to a couple of wealthy socialites on New Earth.” A beat. “That was on them. They should have checked the schematics before they bought.” He shrugs. “Either way, the money from the sale bought my way into an exclusive resort where I partied with a gorgeous Chula woman.” He tips his head back in his chair, eyes closed and relaxed in reminiscence. “Left her my number, but she never called. Maybe she was sore about me taking her ship, but I thought it was a fair trade.” He grins brilliantly.

“We get it,” Owen says, rolling his eyes, “you’ve had a ‘dramatic’ past.”

Tosh furrows her eyebrows. “That sounds like something John Hart would have done.”

“If he even  _ looks _ at a poodle the wrong way,” Ianto says dryly, “I’m demanding a divorce.” This time, Jack scowls for real as the others chuckle, but Ianto only sighs and begins again. “The Kree have had a long history here on Earth. The earliest mentions of them I could find were in mythology.” He clicks again, and the model on the screen is replaced by pictures of old crumbling ruins in a vibrant jungle. “The ancient Mayans had tales of blue angels coming down from the sky, but as their stories evolved, these angels became demons or evil creatures that brought destruction and stole people into the sky.”

“Oh, good old human superstition,” Jack says in response with the same tone he uses when he refers to  _ you people and your labels _ .

Ianto raises an eyebrow. “Except it’s not all superstition or myth. There are some historical records from other races Torchwood or UNIT have encountered about the Kree descending on planets and kidnapping members of the species to experiment on them.” He pauses. “It appears that they were attempting to create soldiers.”

Jack’s expression isn’t so glib anymore. “And now, there’s a dead Kree in Cardiff.” He stands up and begins to pace the length of the room. 

“Did they succeed?” Owen asks, shrewd eyes narrow with curiosity but also disgust. “Because the Kree would have to have highly-advanced scientific or medical technology to even attempt to manipulate human DNA in that way.” He swivels around in his chair to face Martha. “Thoughts?”

Martha bites her lips. “We’ve seen species with similar technology, but that was either now or in the far future.” She sighs. “And for the Kree to have achieved DNA manipulation thousands of years into the past?”

Gwen taps her nails against the table. “Ianto, is there anymore historical precedence for the Kree?”

Ianto shakes his head. “They all but disappeared.” He clicks the remote, and blurry shots of blue humanoid figures in the dark creep onto the screen. “In fact, apart from a brief incident in Los Angeles in the 1990s, a Kree was photographed in Portugal in 2015, and a few Kree were involved in an attack on a small town in the American state of Wyoming. SHIELD was linked to both the Los Angeles and Wyoming incidents, but I couldn’t find any information on either event.”

Jack stops his pacing and offers his husband a weak smile. “Good job, Ianto. And I’m assuming you couldn’t find anything on those crystals either.”

“No.”

“ _ Right _ .” He faces the team. “At least now, we’ve identified our mysterious blue fella. Now, we have to figure out why he was murdered, where the weapon was from, who the attacker is, and how this all links with the ship  _ that SHIELD has _ .” His shoulders slump, but he quickly straightens back up. “Until we can figure our next step, or the Kree’s next step, I’m going to be locking the crystals in the Secure Archive.” He snaps his fingers. “Meeting adjourned.” 

* * *

It’s several hours later, and for once, Martha is not steadying herself for another late night. She is instead slipping off her lab coat and smiling at a sulking Owen who is being forced to stay late and care for a pregnant Weevil. 

“Oh, quit gloating,” Owen grumbles. “Your face will freeze that way.” He continues mixing the blend of vitamins he’s intending on force-feeding the Weevil. “Besides, you’ll be in the same boat tomorrow. There are no standard days in Torchwood.”

“Please,” Martha shoots back as she snaps off her pair of rubber gloves and washes her hands in the sink, “you love caring for the Weevils. I remember your stint as the King of the Weevils.”

“You mean the time where I was a  _ fucking  _ zombie because I was dead,” Owen snaps, and Martha’s smile begins to falter, but she’s thankfully saved from entering an awkward conversation (and likely ensuing apology) when Ianto enters the autopsy room. 

“Have either of you seen Jack?” he asks, and though his expression is quite normal, his words are tinged with concern. He must have gone home or been off-duty, because he's not dressed in his trademark suit, instead in a crisp button-down and jeans, looking like any other twentysomething. He's adapted to 2020 well, including fashion; Owen, on the other hand, still wanders in every other day dressed like it's 2008. "He sent me home and said he'd be coming back a bit later."

Martha shakes her head. "I haven't, sorry. Last time I saw him, he was heading into the Secure Archive with the crystals."

"He's probably still there," Owen says gruffly but not unkindly. Jack and Ianto still have some attachment and separation issues that the Torchwood team dances around. It comes with the territory; Martha still wakes up in cold sweats in the middle of the night, reaching for a TARDIS key around her neck to check her invisibility. Mickey screams the names of friends he lost to the Cybermen as he dreams. "Saw a file and got lost reminiscing about an old Slitheen flame." 

"Thanks," Ianto replies dryly, but he doesn't look reassured. "I think I'll go to the Archive myself."

"I'll come with you," Martha says. "I was on my way out anyways. Let me just grab my purse."

She follows Ianto upstairs to the new Archive, a location that she or the rest of the team rarely ventures to. Why should they, really, when they have Ianto, Jack often says, and Ianto himself seems pleased to have free rein of the place.

Compared to its dank, underground predecessor, the new Archive takes up the expanse of the top floor of the Hub 2.0. Well-lit by the warehouse windows and also by sterile ceiling lights, it is organized into several endless rows of shelves, which Martha knows is only half-full. 

The Secure Archive is all the way in the back, a small chamber that shares an adjoining wall with Jack’s office and is accessible from there and an entrance in the Archive. It is guarded by a code and biometric scan that is only keyed into Jack or Ianto’s signatures, as well as a few other measures that the rest of the team is not privy to.

The solid door, constructed of strong alien metal, is sealed shut. Ianto thumbs the code in and allows the sensors to scan him before waiting for Martha to glance away so that he can perform the final security measures. The door slides open, and they step inside.

Similar to the Archive, the Secure Archive consists of a couple of shelves and is lined with the same metal the door is constructed from, but Martha doesn’t have a chance to notice any of that, not when Jack’s body is lying at their feet, completely covered in a rocky shell that extends underneath even his clothes.

“ _ Christ, Jack _ ,” Ianto says and rushes to his husband’s side.

“ _ Wait _ !  _ Don’t touch him _ !” Martha says, not a moment too soon as she quickly realizes that Jack isn’t covered in a rocky shell.  _ His entire body  _ has turned to stone.

Ianto skids to a halt inches awake from Jack. “ _ Christ _ ,” he repeats, eyes fixed on his body in horror.

Then there’s an abrupt grating sound. Martha watches in shock as the stone of Jack’s lower arm begins to chip and crack, falling to the floor of the Archive in fragments. Underneath is exposed pink raw skin.

“Wha,” Martha says, “the  _ utter fuck _ ?” In terms of unbelievable sights she’s seen or been shown by the Doctor, this ranks somewhere amongst her top ten.

Struck wordless, Ianto continues staring at his husband’s body as more and more stone chips away, slowly revealing Jack’s face.

Then with a startling, heaving wheeze, Jack gasps back to life.

* * *

“I have never bloody well seen anything like this  _ in my life _ ,” Owen pronounces as he studies the stone fragments underneath a microscope. He glances back up at the rest of them. “This is definitely stone or something a similar consistency, at least in appearance, but its makeup is entirely organic.” He checks his scanner. “Carbon, nitrogen, phosphorus, and selenium.” 

“I don’t recognize it either,” Martha adds. She turns back to their audience. “What happened?”

“How is me telling you again going to do anything?” Jack, seated on Owen’s slab and looking more incredibly pale than usually does when he resurrects, complains, sighing. Ianto, standing close and resting a hand on Jack’s thigh, fixes him with a stern look, and Jack sighs. “ _ Fine _ .” A pause. “I was storing the crystals in the Secure Archive, but the case was unlatched and when I tilted it slightly to place it on a shelf, a crystal slipped out and shattered when it hit the ground. It released this white  _ mist _ , and the next thing I knew, I started turning into stone.” He shudders, looking oddly vulnerable, and Ianto steps closer. “I could  _ feel  _ every inch of my body changing. If it had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have survived.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Owen breathes. 

Jack straightens up, regaining his composure. His eyes harden, and Martha can see him retreat behind the facade of being the Captain, of being  _ Torchwood _ . “I’m going to be locking the crystals away for good this time. No one will be going near them.” His tone leaves no room for disagreement or protest.

Owen claps a hand on Jack’s back as he moves across the lab to fetch a container for the stone fragments. “I don’t plan to, mate.”

“Jack,” Ianto says softly, and sensing a private moment, Martha turns away. 

She fishes her phone from her purse and retreats into the hallway outside the autopsy room. Then she begins to dial a well-familiar number. The line rings and rings until there’s a click indicating that the call has connected.

“ _ Martha Jones _ !” The voice is different, all Northern and not the Estuary accent with a slight Scottish burr that Martha still expects at times, but the inflection and enthusiasm is still the same. “ _ I was about to take the TARDIS on a trip to visit my good friend Pablo Picasso. How can I help you? _ ”

“Hello, Doctor,” Martha says. “What do you know about the Kree?”

There is an unnerving silence on the other end of the line, and Martha can feel her hackles beginning to rise. 

Then: 

“ _ Not much _ ,” the Doctor replies, every word that follows weighted with a grave solemnity the Doctor so ever seldom shows, “ _ but from what I do know, the Kree are dangerous. They almost make the Daleks look silly. _ ” She sighs. “ _ Stay away from them, Martha _ .”

“It’s a bit too late for that, Doctor,” Martha admits. “It seems that Torchwood is on a head-first collision course with them.”

The Doctor inhales sharply. “ _ I’ll be there in a minute _ .” There’s the sound of gears cranking and the familiar wheezing as the TARDIS begins to dematerialize.

“Wait!” Martha protests, but there’s another click; the Doctor has put her cell phone down. She shakes her head. “Why can’t you just tell us why the Kree are so dangerous, Doctor? You’ll never get here in time.”


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Using his newly-built sonic screwdriver, Fitz opens the alien ship and accidentally unleased chaos. A SHIELD agent and Torchwood operative go missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this today for Ainsley's birthday. We're nearing the end, and things are gearing up! Lemme know what you think!

With a satisfying  _ hiss _ of the blowtorch, Fitz finishes soldering his final two wires together and tucks them within the cylindrical build of the device. Another quick use of the blowtorch fits the end cap of the device on snugly. Then Fitz powers down the blowtorch and sets it aside, stripping off his protective eyewear and gloves. 

He steps back and admires his handiwork on the world’s first - to his knowledge, at least - sonic screwdriver. 

It’s nothing fancy. Quite simplistic in design. Just a thin silver tube with a sleek, subtle button at the base and an LED bulb reinforced with steel at the top to light up or flare when the tool is activated. 

By all calculations - Fitz’s and Jemma’s, it should work on whatever locking mechanisms have sealed the alien ship SHIELD picked up, but Fitz should still test it first.

Carefully, he wraps his fingers around the base and then hurries outside the lab, turning to face the door as it slides shut with a quiet hiss and seals off his domain. Coincidentally, he’s also left his ID badge inside.

Fitz lifts the sonic screwdriver to the scanner. Jemma would probably say something dramatic or nerdy like  _ Alohomora _ , but he only thumbs the button, bating his breath.

The sonic screwdriver buzzes and lights up a bright blue. Then with a quiet beep, the scanner flashes green, and the door slides back open. Fitz whoops quietly. 

Also, just for safe measure, Fitz tests out a lightbulb, bathing a portion of the lab in darkness and then flooding it back into light, and an old radio he has lying about which wheezes to life playing jazz.

Finally, he approaches the door of his lab again. By all indication of the many, many scans they took, the ship should be empty, but just in case, he grabs his gun and checks the clip. Quickly, he marches through the Zephyr; the rest of the team is in the rec room or elsewhere, and thus he encounters no one as he exits out the landing bay and stands by the ship. 

“Here goes  _ bloody nothing _ ,” he says as he raises the sonic screwdriver like a magician’s wand at the ready. He hovers his thumb over the button at the base and then swiftly presses it down, but this time, he cannot resist whispering, “ _ Alohomora _ ,” as the screwdriver begins its low-pitched buzzing. 

Then there’s a loud but hollow and distant  _ click _ , which Fitz presumes to be the first of the locking mechanisms. He keeps his grip on the screwdriver, squeezing the button down. Almost a full minute later - which Fitz waits out painfully, holding his breath all the while, there is another hollow  _ click _ , this time sounding much closer.

“ _ C’mon _ ,” Fitz murmurs. He and Deke had estimated about three alien locks to the ship based on their scans and calculations. The last one should be unlocking any moment now.

Another full minute creeps by. Then a second. Fitz’s hand begins to drift towards the gun holstered at his thigh.

_ Click _ .

A thin outline of a door begins to slowly stretch across the reflective surface of the ship. A moment later, it slides open with a quiet whistle, revealing a dark gap before bright lights flicker on. 

Fitz catches a glimpse of the ship’s sleek, blinking interior as he takes a step closer to take a closer look-

“ _ Fitz! _ ”

Daisy stands inside the Zephyr, the landing bay lowered. Her hand is raised as if she’s ready to use her powers. Behind her is the rest of the team, sprawled out in strategic positions. All of them have their guns drawn except for Daisy. Jemma watches him, soft brown eyes drenched in concern. 

Fitz blinks. Then he realizes that he’s moved; he’s now standing several feet away from the ship, his gun also drawn. There’s evidence that he’s recently fired a few shots. 

He doesn’t remember moving.

He doesn’t remember lifting his gun.

“Fitz,” Mack says, voice tight. “What happened? We heard gunshots.”

Fitz glances at the ship where the door remains open but the inside has gone dark. Then his eyes dart back to his team.

“I don’t know.” He swallows. “ _ I don’t remember _ .”

* * *

“You’re fine,” Jemma pronounces, gaze flickering up briefly from where she’s studying Fitz’s brain scans on her tablet. “There’s no sign of an abnormal activity in any of your brain scans.”

“Are you sure, Jemma?” he asks, bewildered. He leans off the table he’s seating on, trying to get a closer look at the tablet screen. “That doesn’t make sense. Why did I black out? Why don’t I remember?”

Now, even Mack looks concerned and strides closer from where he had been propped against a wall. He crosses his arms over his muscular chest. “Could there be another reason, Simmons? Turbo was working with the ship; maybe there’s some technology in there that could have caused his memory loss.”

Jemma briefly taps away at the glass of her tablet screen, sighing. “That is what I was thinking too, but we won’t be able to know until we explore and study the ship.” She pauses. “It’s odd, however. According to Fitz, he blacked out when approaching the ship and became aware when he was several feet away, which seems to have been a duration of a few minutes.” She clicks her tongue, expression becoming critical. “I would almost say he had dissociated, but the gap in his memory seems too precise, too clean.”

“What  _ happened _ to me then?” Fitz murmurs, hands dragging down the side of his face. He glances away from Mack and Jemma, tucking his head and gaze downwards. He feels a desperate spark of frustration and knows that if he doesn’t get answers soon, it will rapidly fan into a consuming flame.

He doesn’t like not knowing what’s happened to him, despises the idea that he lost control of his brain, of his faculties.  _ Not anymore _ . 

That one thought causes his urgency to grow. “ _ What happened _ ?” he repeats. “ _ Why can’t I remember _ ?”

Jemma and Mack exchange glances. Despite the reluctance in Mack’s eyes, Fitz can see the potential conclusion growing, accompanied by the slightest bit of suspicion but overpowered by the concern. 

_ Your old brain injury acting up again _ , they’ll say.  _ The damage to your temporal lobe exacerbated by the trauma of being in the Framework, the trauma of being the Doctor. The way a psychic split brought the Doctor back and caused you to strapped one of your best friends down to a table and torture her under the guise of saving the day _ .

_ They’ll never see you any other way _ , Fitz thinks bitterly. 

“Maybe,” Mack begins, and Fitz knows what exactly he is about to suggest. “Maybe-”

“Gotcha!” Daisy cries triumphantly at that exact moment, hurrying through the lab doors. She has a tablet in hand. “I got the footage for the cameras we set up around the ship.”

Mack’s eyebrows furrow as he shuffles around to face Daisy. “And?”

Daisy comes to a stop next to Jemma and lowers the tablet so that they can all see the video. She taps play, and they, Fitz included, all watch him come out of the Zephyr landing bay. He stands before the ship, sonic screwdriver held high. The locks click open, and the door appears. Fitz steps closer…

The footage snaps to Fitz standing several feet away from the ship, gun drawn and sonic screwdriver dropped to the grass. He’s glancing towards the Zephyr, likely towards where Daisy and the team are standing, hidden from the camera’s view.

Fitz’s mouth has gone dry. 

“What happened?” Mack asks, bewildered, and grabs for the tablet. Daisy lets him. He taps urgently across the screen, forwarding through the footage again. “How can it just be missing? Has someone hacked into our system? Could they have manipulated the cameras?”

Daisy shakes her head. “I checked. No one’s been in or around our system except for Torchwood’s failed attempts at snooping around.” She chuckles lightly. “Even they’ve given up now. But no, there’s nothing to recover. No footage that’s been edited out. If anything, it’s just missing. Like someone's taken a pair of scissors to our video footage and then neatly stitched it back again.” She sighs. “This is advanced beyond anything I’ve seen.”

“Like my memory,” Fitz murmurs, and Mack, Daisy, and Jemma all turn to face him. 

“Like Fitz’s memory,” Daisy confirms.

“Daisy’s right,” Jemma adds, frowning. “This is beyond any medical technology I’ve ever encountered. Could the Kree have the technology for this?”

Now, it’s Fitz’s turn to sigh. “I’m not sure. There’s no way of knowing.” He hesitates. He could ask Deke, no matter how much he doesn’t like interacting with his awkward grandson. 

When he meets his wife’s kind eyes, he knows that she’s thinking of talking to Deke too. “I’ll call him,” Jemma says and fishes in her pocket for her cell phone. 

After some brief ringing, Deke picks up, and Jemma places her phone on speaker mode so that they can all hear the conversation. “ _ Hi, Nana! What are you up to _ ?”

“Deke,” Mack says hurriedly, raising his voice and stepping forward. “To your information, did anyone in the Lighthouse, especially the Kree, possess the technology to cleanly manipulate memories?”

“ _ Uhhh _ ,” replies Deke. “ _ Not the Kree at least. If they wanted to manipulate your memories or mess with your brain, they would storm in and butcher everything. Besides, they mostly preferred cruder methods like actual torture _ .” He pauses. “ _ Is there anything else I can help you with _ ?  _ I’m at this pub, and although they don’t have Zima, they have some wonderful fish and chips. Is that traditional for you and Bobo _ ?  _ You should come here and have _ -”

Fitz leans in quickly. “Bye, Deke,” he calls. “Enjoy your chips!” He barely allows Deke to squeak out a goodbye before hanging up the call. Then he turns gravely to face Mack, Daisy, and Jemma.

“It’s not the Kree,” Mack concludes. “Not the Kree we know, and not the Kree Deke knew.”

“That’s odd,” Fitz replies, “because all the scans we conducted on the ship recognized the same energy traces that were consistent with the Kree body we found.”

“It’s possible that there’s another species besides the Kree involved,” Jemma says, expression critical. 

“Which would explain the missing weapon that was definitely not of Kree origin,” Daisy adds. “So that means we have two alien species in Cardiff, one of which we don’t recognize, a murdered Kree, a ship from said species we don’t recognize, and a missing alien weapon.” She sighs. “Still, something about  _ all of this _ doesn’t add up. There’s definitely something we’re missing, a major factor.” She rubs her hand across her forehead.

“Hopefully,” Fitz says, “the ship will give us answers.” When Mack and Jemma turn to glare at him and Jemma protests, he shakes his head at them. “Don’t worry. I won’t be going in myself.”

* * *

When Fitz props open the case of D.W.A.R.F.s to reveal the individual drones, Mack chuckles. “To be completely honest,” he says, “I forgot that those existed.”

“To be completely honest,” Fitz says back, shrugging, “I haven’t had reason to use them in several months.”

Several minutes later, the drones are hovering outside the ship. They form a tight pyramid formation as they enter inside before fanning back out again. The team watches the slim screens that line the Zephyr’s main cabin warily; there’s no telling what unexpected discoveries await inside the ship.

After the entrance is a short well-lit hallway that likely would have been cramped had Fitz actually been there in-person. As the first of the drones drifts forward into the next space, he catches sight of a large cabin. Quickly, he realizes that it’s the main and only cabin on the ship.

Daisy frowns at the screen. “This ship definitely seemed bigger from the outside than it is on the inside.”

“One day, we’ll probably encounter the reverse,” Jemma says dreamily. “A ship that’s bigger on the inside than it is on the outside.” 

“That sounds impossible,” Yo-Yo comments, sharp eyebrows raised.

“Dimensional transcendentalism,” murmurs Fitz. If that was real, he’d start drooling.

The drones sweep the cabin, and their cameras reveal one side lined with compartments that look like they could fit humanoid aliens. The opposite wall contains a panel with a myriad of blinking lights that seemingly correspond to the compartments and other processes of the ship. 

The only other structure of note is the large pillar that stretches from floor to ceiling and is outfitted with many wires, buttons, and more lights. 

“Pretty bare-bones,” Mack says as he studies the interior view of the ship on the screens. “Looks like this ship was only used for transport.”

Fitz nods in agreement. “If anything, it looks like the compartments on the side were stasis chambers. The aliens probably stayed hibernating until they reached their destination.” He sighs. “It’s possible that when I unlocked the ship, I unleashed the aliens on Cardiff.”

Jemma fixes him with a reassuring smile. “Don’t be ridiculous, Fitz. It’s just as possible that when you unlocked the ship, you simply triggered its defense system.”

“That’s refreshingly optimistic, Simmons,” Mack says, “but there’s no way to know for sure. Especially when these aliens seem to possess the ability to manipulate both human memory and technology alike.” He rubs his brow. “We have to keep our eyes open. We don’t want to be responsible for an alien attack in Cardiff.”

“Please,” Piper comments, rolling her eyes. “From what I’ve heard from this city, it seems like the Welsh natives are used to worse.”

“We’ve certainly unleashed Deke upon them,” Fitz grumbles. “He probably drank all the pubs out of their Zima.”

The team’s resounding chuckles do nothing to drown out Fitz’s building concern. He hopes that he’ll be able to salvage some of the technology from the ship and reverse-engineering something.

* * *

Fitz sits slumped over the table in the rec room, ignoring the greasy, paper-wrapped package of fish and chips sat next to his folded elbow. Across the table, Deke is digging into his own food, flinging around bits of fried fish, crispy potato, or droplets of sauce as he enthusiastically raves about the newest chippy he found to Jemma. To Jemma’s credit, she actually manages to appear interested in the conversation - unless she actually is; she’s gotten very good at lying over the last few years, and sometimes Fitz can’t tell when she’s indulging him or is genuinely interested - and is chipping in -  _ pun intended _ \- every few moments with her favorite chippies back in Sheffield. 

It’s a fairly mundane conversation, and Fitz knows that he should perhaps also be participating if he wants to interact with his grandson and actually warm up to him, but his mind is wandering in the opposite direction, working on a million different things a minute.

One part of his brain is devoted to puzzling over how he’s going to strip the ship of its parts without directly entering said ship. Another is trying to categorize the aliens among any he potentially encountered aboard the Lighthouse. One solid part is devoted entirely to drooling at the smell of the fish and chips.

A small fraction of himself is screaming about his stolen memory, but Fitz has to ruthlessly squash that part of himself down. There’s no time to dwell on things like that.

“What do you think, Fitz?” Jemma asks, and Fitz drags his attention from the depths of his brain back to his wife’s conversation with Deke. 

“ _ What _ ?” he asks, glancing between Jemma and Deke in bewilderment.

“Your accent got real thick there, Bobo,” Deke says. Then he looks contemplative. “Why don’t I have an accent? Mom definitely had traces of one from what I remember.”

Fitz is spared from having to respond when Mack storms into the rec room, expression flinty but still concerned. He’s trailed by Yo-Yo whose lips are pinched together tightly and taps her foot impatiently against the floor.

“Have any of you seen or heard from Daisy?” Mack demands. When all three of them shake their heads in refusal, he sighs and slumps his shoulders, deflating like a burst balloon. “We picked up chatter about strange activity in Cardiff. People posted pictures of what appeared to be Kree on Twitter. Daisy headed over to investigate, but that was hours ago. She isn’t responding.”

“We can’t track her comm signal either,” Yo-Yo adds, her words slipping out as quickly as bullets from a machine gun in her concern. “It cut out entirely.”

Fitz straightens, reaching for his tablet. “I can try and track her via the Cardiff CCTV cameras.”

Mack nods. “That’s what I was hoping.”

Tongue sticking out of his mouth, Fitz taps away at his screen. He navigates through police reports and social media feeds until he can finally run tracking software for a one Daisy Johnson. “Loading...and found Daisy!” He holds up his tablet. “Sending it to the main cabin screens.”

They all scurry over to the large screens and then progressively watch as Daisy heads from the Zephyr and walks to the nearest edge of town until she can take a taxi to a pub several streets away from the Plass. She then walks several blocks in the opposite direction but ultimately disappears for about ten minutes before she pops back up in a crammed alleyway behind a Chinese takeaway. The location must be low-priority for the business owners, because the footage is fuzzy and in black-and-white.

Daisy stands in the alleyway, leaning casually against a wall while she pretends to check her phone while actually covertly scanning her surroundings. 

“Did we get the results of her scan?” Jemma asks, hunching over her own tablet to search for any missing files for Daisy. Yo-Yo’s head shake cuts off her hunt.

“Phone signal cut out too,” Mack explains. “It’s like she basically fell off the grid once she left the Zephyr.”

“ _ Well _ ,” Fitz murmurs under his breath, “not entirely, since we can still track her via the cameras. But the way technology seems to cut out around her seems too coincidentally to the gap in our camera footage and in my memory.” He ignores the flare of desperation, proceeding to forward through the next ten minutes of Daisy leaning against the wall - though she does occasionally stride from one side of the alleyway to the other. 

“ _ Wait _ .”

At Deke’s call, Fitz slows the footage down, and they watch as a well-suited man in his late twenties slips into the alleyway and strides down towards Daisy who glances up as he approaches. Quickly, Fitz recognizes him as Ianto Jones, member of Torchwood and husband of the one Jack Harkness who infuriates Daisy.

“Is there any sound, Fitz?” asks Mack.

Fitz shakes his head. “Not this camera, no.” He taps away at his tablet quickly. “However, the camera along the streetside does and managed to distantly pick up audio. And…if we raise the volume…” He loudens the audio just in time to pick up the beginning of the conversation.

“ _ Mr. Jones _ ,” Daisy says as she nods and pushes herself off the wall. She sets her shoulders. “ _ You’ve lost your tail. _ ”

Jones holds Daisy’s gaze. “ _ Agent Johnson _ .” His tone is curt but polite; judging from his general demeanor, Fitz would think that Ianto Jones is a very effective administrator. “ _ Jack and I are married; he’s not glued to my side. I can leave him at home at times _ .” He chuckles quietly, as if sharing a private joke with himself. “ _ Provided I water his bowl and give him plenty of food _ .”

This earns him a brief but amused snort from Daisy. “ _ So even his own husband grows tired of him at times _ .” She slips her smartphone into the pocket of her leather jacket, a move followed by Jones’s alert eyes. “ _ Glad to know _ .”

Jones shrugs. “ _ Admittedly, Jack can be too much at times, but SHIELD has been an unyielding thorn in our side for a while now _ .  _ I can’t blame him for his attitude _ .”

“ _ I’ll take that as a compliment _ ,” Daisy replies dryly, crossing her arms across her chest. “ _ What are you doing here _ ,  _ Jones?” _

“ _ Admiring the city where I live _ ,” he shoots back smoothly. 

“ _ Yes _ ,  _ because an alleyway behind a Chinese place is  _ such  _ a tourist trap _ .”

“ _It must be_ _if an American is here_.” Jones smiles serenely at Daisy who chuckles in response.

“As riveting as this is,” Mack cuts in, and immediately, Fitz pauses the footage, “this doesn’t actually help us. How long does this go on, Turbo?”

“Another two minutes or so.” Fitz skips forward by a minute. “This should be better.”

“- _ your Weevil friend named Doris _ ,” Daisy finishes, and Jones snorts.

“Hold up!” Deke calls. “I wanna hear about Doris. Go back.”

“Too late,” Fitz tells him sternly.

“Time and place, Deke,” Piper adds. “Daisy’s missing.”

“Right.” Deke nods.

“ _ Doris is fine _ ,” Jones tells Daisy. “ _ She’s getting along quite well with her neighbors _ .”

Daisy cocks a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “ _ So Torchwood  _ does  _ have more Weevils _ .” She pauses. “ _ Tell me _ -”

A faint crash in the background causes her to trail off as both she and Jones glance sharply toward the other end of the alleyway. Daisy’s hands curl into fists by her side, and Jones unholsters his gun.

“What was that?” Mack asks. “Fitz?”

“Working on it, Mack.” Fitz holds up a finger to Mack, swiping through various different camera angles on his tablet. “I can’t find it. Whatever it is is in a camera blindspot.”

Mack frowns but motions for Fitz to resume the video feed.

“ _ What was that _ ?” Daisy asks urgently. She turns to Jones who has shifted into a defensive position and has raised his gun. “ _ Do you see anything _ ?”

“ _ I don’t _ .” Jones appears to peer more closely at the disturbance. “ _ There’s _ -”

The video doesn’t cut out or anything. Daisy and Jones are simply there in the alleyway one minute and gone the next. One moment two humans behind a Chinese takeaway, the next moment, an empty alleyway.

“ _ What the fuck _ ?” Mack murmurs, rubbing his brow. “It’s the same thing that happened to you, Turbo.” His expression has become critical.

Fitz sighs. “I know. I think whatever caused the disturbance must have escaped from the ship when I opened it.”

“ _ Shit _ ,” Piper says. “That means that we’ve let loose a horde of memory-wiping and video-altering aliens on Cardiff. Finding them will be impossible.”

“Thanks for the reminder, Piper,” Fitz mutters under his breath. He pitches his voice louder. 

“ _ Dios mío _ ,” Yo-Yo whispers. “They have Daisy. We have to find those aliens.”

Mack sighs. “Before even that, Yo-Yo, we have to find Torchwood, because they didn’t just take Daisy. They also took Jack Harkness’s husband.”

“You don’t  _ mean _ ?” Yo-Yo’s eyes widen slightly, and she frowns. “ _ Mack _ ?”

“I’m sorry, Yo-Yo,” Mack says, “but we’re gonna have to work with Torchwood to find Daisy and Jones.”


	6. +1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ianto and Daisy deal with being taken prisoner by the Kree, suffer together, and maybe bond a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME TO AGENTS OF SHIELD S7 PREMIERE DAY! Can you believe that this is the last season premiere we will ever have? It makes me sad just thinking about it. I don't think I'll ever be able to say goodbye to this show that's been with me since I was 12. 
> 
> Anyways, this massive chapter is 13k, almost 4 times the normal chapters. Don't ask why it's so long (it spiralled quickly out of control and I have no answers), just enjoy it!
> 
> I'm sorry about the angst...lemme know what you think in the comments. I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts on this chapter in particular!
> 
> Only the epilogue left after this!

In all his twenty-something years of life - and he’s only counting the years where he was actually alive, Ianto Jones has determined that one of the most uncomfortable ways to wake up lying on a cold, dirty cement floor. It’s barely surpassed by waking up with his arm crushed beneath Jack’s sleeping body and the sheets crusty and sticking to his bare skin, because his husband had refused to shower and change the sheets after their very, very messy activities of the previous night.

Ianto stifles a quiet groan of pain. His entire body throbs like a giant bruise, but most of the pain is clustered around his head, beginning seemingly from the base of his skull. His mouth feels drier than sandpaper. 

When his eyes flicker open, he’s met by a high ceiling that he can barely make out through a sea of hazy darkness. The only sources of light seems to be a couple of single glowing light bulbs dangling down. 

His arms twitch as he attempts to stretch them out and shift them, but this time he can’t stop his hiss of pain.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” comes a dry but weary and familiar voice. Daisy Johnson. To Ianto’s credit, he barely flinches. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Johnson’s right; after a few more minutes, the pain begins to recede until Ianto can think without feeling nauseous.

“ _ How did you know _ ?” Ianto rasps. He coughs to clear his throat and swallows dryly, licking his lips. 

“I’m familiar with the type of weapon the Kree used to knock us out,” Johnson replies. “Plus, I was in the same state about an hour ago.”

_ Ah _ ,  _ yes _ , thinks Ianto,  _ the Kree _ . 

That is what Ianto had been doing outside of the Chinese takeaway. He’d spotted something about a blue creature in Cardiff on the Torchwood system and left to investigate without telling anyone.

Jack would have called that stupidity, but Ianto had thought that it was being practical. If those crystals were involved, a single person would be safer than a whole team blundering in and mucking about. Plus, after Jack’s extremely difficult death from those crystals, Ianto didn’t want him anywhere near the Kree. He was only returning the favor after all; in the immediate months after Ianto, Owen, and Tosh had returned, Jack had been incredibly overprotective to the point where it was stifling. He was only beginning to let up a bit recently.

Besides, he’s more than capable of dealing with whatever this new mess is by himself. He’s capable and competent enough, not to mention that he’s not alone for once, no matter how evasive and secretive Daisy Johnson behaves. (She won’t like that comparison, but in that way, she’s incredibly similar to how Jack was prior to the whole Abaddon mess.) 

“How long do you think we’ve been here?” he asks her.

“At least a couple of hours,” she replies. “Can’t have been more than a day.” A beat of strained silence. “How long do you plan on lying there?”

“Good question.” With a hiss of pain, Ianto slowly begins to stretch his limbs out. Gingerly - and turtle-like, he turns himself onto his side and slowly pushes himself up, legs wobbling and straining all the while. He grits his teeth. By the time his body is fully straightened up, he tries to take a step forward and nearly stumbles back down, grasping blindly for the nearest wall for support. 

“Careful there,” Johnson says with amusement.

“ _ Shut up _ ,” he hisses back and slowly turns himself around until he can survey his entire surroundings.

There’s not much to see. They’re in a large space that goes on for a bit beyond the twenty feet that Ianto can immediately see in the dim light. Then there’s abrupt darkness. Johnson sits propped against a wall to his right, legs folded and arms dangling over them. Her hair is ruffled, and there are slight dark circles under her eyes, but she looks relatively unharmed.

Ianto remains standing. “Where are we?”

Johnson shrugs. “No idea. Likely still in Cardiff since this looks like a human warehouse. Which is odd, considering how the Kree like to leave Earth once they’ve gotten their prisoners. This means that they want something from us.” She watches Ianto consideringly. “Since you’re not reacting confusedly, I’m gonna assume that you have found out who the Kree are since our Weevil encounter.”

He nods in response. “Not exactly reading material for the lighthearted. Brutal and highly-skilled soldiers who like to experiment on species they encounter? Of course Torchwood would be concerned.”

Tipping her head back against the wall, Johnson grimaces. “God, you don’t even know the full extent of it yet. If you ever encounter a Kree, you kinda just wanna run in the opposite direction.” She gestures around their small space. “Well, if you have the choice.”

“Have you tried heading towards the darkness?” Ianto asks, leaning against the wall himself.

She shakes her head. “I have a feeling that the Kree probably have some nasty defenses to keep us from escaping, and I don’t want to find out.”

“ _ Huh _ .” With that, Ianto stumbles over to Johnson and sits down besides her, back sliding down against the rough brick of the warehouse wall. “So now what? Just waiting until the Kree show up until we can figure out what they want from us?” He doesn’t have to glance over to Johnson to know that she nods.

She swallows roughly, the sound audible in the silence between them. “Does Torchwood know where you are?”

“Didn’t tell them,” Ianto replies, trailing off and hoping to deter Johnson from asking any more questions.  _ Didn’t think I needed to _ … “Does SHIELD know where you are?”

“They know where I was going, but seeing as I no longer have my phone or comm or gun on me, I wouldn’t count on a quick and easy rescue.” Johnson chuckles roughly.

Ianto quickly pats himself down and realizes that Johnson is correct; he’s also missing his cell phone, comm, and gun. “Looks like it’s up to us to formulate our own rescue.”

“Exactly,” agrees Johnson, “but for now, looks like we’re just waiting.”

* * *

They sit like that for what seems like hours, the silence originally comfortable but eventually growing more strained, passing time in snippets of conversation.

First:

“This your first time being kidnapped?” asks Johnson conversationally.

Ianto snorts. “Actually, yes. You think you would expect it in this line of work, but this is actually the first time I’ve been kidnapped.” He pauses considerately, thinking. “Well, I _ was taken _ hostage by cannibals once.” Briefly, he feels a bright spark of terror and can hear the metallic, strident sound of knives being sharpened, and he shivers, but this particular ghost has been dulled by over a decade and death. “I don’t know if I would prefer the Kree to them.”

Johnson must have noticed his reaction to the cannibals and thus doesn’t comment on his reference, for which he is grateful. “I’ve definitely been here before.”

“Kidnapped?”

“Yes, but I meant being kidnapped by the Kree,” Johnson explains and ignores Ianto’s incredulous look. “It’s not like it’s a common occurrence; it’s just already happened  _ once before _ . Maybe... _ twice _ .” She hums. “It’s odd though. These Kree and their technology seem more advanced, more futuristic, than SHIELD’s ever encountered before. And we have encountered our fair share of Kree.”

Some time later:

“Why Cardiff?” she asks.

“ _ Hmm _ ?” Ianto lifts his head up and straightens his spine from where he was beginning to slump against the wall; he hadn’t necessarily been dozing but had in fact been daydreaming about his last date with Jack (Jack had finally taken him to Le Papillon, and later Ianto had shown his husband his appreciation by fucking him hard). It takes him a moment to break from his slight haze of arousal. “What about Cardiff?” 

“Why Cardiff?” Johnson repeats. “Why did the Kree choose to come to Cardiff? We followed them here.” She sighs. “Why didn’t they go somewhere like Switzerland? Some nice snowy mountains...or even Bali? Somewhere there’s a beach?”

“Bali sounds nice,” Ianto muses, devoting another part of his brain to a new daydream that involves him rubbing sunscreen over Jack’s muscular body under a warm sun. Said part of his brain also decides to dismiss the impracticalities of being intimate on a beach like sand getting everywhere and potential heatstroke. “I’ve never been to Bali. Or a tropical island...maybe even Tahiti.” He definitely clocks Johnson’s flinch at his mention of Tahiti. He himself sighs internally.  _ Looks like everyone has their scars when you’re in the business of alien-hunting _ . “Do you know about the Rift?”

“The  _ what _ ?”

“I shall take that as a no.” Ianto straightens his legs in front of him and wiggles them a bit to prevent the familiar pinpricks of them falling asleep. “Cardiff is built on a rift in space and time. No one knows how or why, but it used to cause the unexpected to wash up into Cardiff. Torchwood Three was created to monitor the Rift, but after...eventually, we  _ became _ Torchwood. Since we were all that was left.” He shrugs, Johnson watching him contemplatively. “About a decade ago, the Rift was sealed permanently, in which I played a direct part.” 

_ Sorry, Jack. Someone’s got to destroy the Rift.  _

He shivers and is grateful when Johnson doesn’t mention it.

“Anyways,” he continues, “the Rift is gone, but Cardiff likely still has the repute. Maybe that’s what lured the Kree here.” He sighs again. “ _ Bloody Rift _ .”

Johnson snorts. “You sound so English.”

Ianto whips his head to stare at her in disbelief, affronted. “ _ Excuse you _ ! I’m Welsh; there’s a difference!”

Lifting her hands up in playful defense, Johnson laughs, tossing her head back, and because Ianto is married to Jack (and because he’s also a man in his sexual prime), his eyes are drawn to the elegant curve of her neck that is revealed when her hair lifts. “Well, I’m sorry. I’m an ignorant American. What do you expect?” She laughs again, a light-hearted sound. “I was just fucking with you, Jones. You spend enough time with Fitz complaining about the English to Simmons, and you’ll learn the difference.”

“I don’t think Jack still knows the difference, and he’s been in Cardiff for long enough,” admits Ianto. They fall silent again, and after several slow moments: “Call me Ianto. If we’re going to be held captive together, you can at least do me the courtesy of calling me by my first name.”

Johnson smiles, dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Call me Daisy.”

Finally:

“I had a bit of a goth phase,” Ianto replies and recalls a similar conversation with Tosh from a decade ago. 

Daisy gasps, hand flying to her mouth to hide her wide smile and muffle her laugher. Several moments later - after her shoulders have stopped shaking, she straightens up. “ _ No way _ . That was your most embarrassing childhood phase?” She studies Ianto, and having been entangled with Jack for so long, Ianto has gotten very good at knowing when someone is mentally underdressing him. “I would not expect that.”

Although he had been smiling wryly until a moment ago, his expression drops, frowning playfully. “Why not?”

“You’re so buttoned up!” she explains, raking a hand through her caramel-dyed hair. “You seem too much like a mild-mannered Jeeves.” Then she looks contemplative. “Well, to be fair, I did know someone similar, and he used his suit as a deception, though he was less butler and more unassuming pencil-pusher.” She smirks at him. “I suspect you’re the same type.”

He doesn’t confirm her hypothesis, nor does he deny it. “ _ I am _ married to Jack Harkness.”

Daisy snorts. After brief silence: “I had a cosplay phase,” she offers.

His brow furrows. “There’s nothing wrong or embarrassing about that. I’m still quite enamored with Star Wars and James Bond.”

“Did you line up outside of Stark Tower for hours in a very trashy Iron Man costume hoping to get noticed?” When Ianto snorts, Daisy shakes her head. “I didn’t think so.”

Before Ianto can reply, the void beyond their small, dimly-lit space suddenly floods with brightness.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he hisses and dives for cover where he can shield his face from the blinding light. His eyes, which have since comfortably adjusted to the shadows, burn painfully. He knows Daisy is similarly hunched over; he can feel the ends of her hair dragging like fine silk against the bare skin of his forearms exposed by his rolled-up dress shirt sleeves.

Slowly, the light dulls, and Ianto peeks back up. His aching eyes can barely make out three blue figures standing far away. 

_ Kree _ , his hazy mind thinks.

Daisy, having quickly recovered from the blinding light, leaps to her feet, nimble as a cat. She stalks forward towards the Kree, and Ianto, despite his weary and creaking knees, quickly follows. 

As Daisy and Ianto get closer to the Kree, his mind is finally able to register them. Three hulking humanoid figures that are more of a subdued blue but covered in the distinctive black leather armor that Jack had described. One stands in the middle, clearly the leader or at least the highest-ranking of the bunch. All three hold large, wicked-looking guns, and as Daisy bolts closer, hands lifting higher and higher as she moves, one of the Kree falls into a defensive position and fires a white plasma blast towards her.

Ianto’s alarmed warning dies in his throat as the blast flies forward before sputtering out like a snuffed candle. The air where the blast had been crackles and lights up a faint red before the effect fans out, making it evident that a powerful energy barrier separates them from the Kree.

He swallows dryly, grinding to a halt inches behind Daisy, and exchanges looks with her. Words go unspoken between them, but the message is still clear.

The barrier protects them from the Kree, keeping the Kree out, but it also keeps them in. If they want to escape, they’ll have to comply with the Kree until the energy barrier is pulled down. 

“Who’s the Inhuman? The one they call the Destroyer of Worlds?” the superior Kree rasps, and he sounds perfectly human. Ianto can’t even see any visible translator devices on him.

“Excuse me,” he says indignantly, channeling every inch of his mild-mannered butler persona and sliding in front of Daisy. She makes a low murmur of protest, but with his right hand, he reaches behind blindly to tap twice on whatever part of her body that is in grasp, which happens to be the side of her leg. When she reaches down to squeeze his wrist, he knows she understood. “We’re both human. If anything, you lot are the  _ inhuman _ s here.”

The Kree who had spoken snarls in anger. He lifts up a smaller weapon that had been resting on the ground beside him, previously unnoticed by Ianto, and fires a solid beam of bright energy towards them.

Ianto barely has seconds to process that the energy actually  _ penetrates through  _ the barrier before he is struck, toppling over backwards and nearly knocking down Daisy.

Then every inch of his body is in  _ unimaginable agony _ . He can feel every single cell in his body alight on fire, every single synapse in his brain screams with pain, and he thinks he might be screaming too.

Hazily, the one little part of his brain that might still be capable of thought registers that Daisy’s yelling at the Kree, but  _ everything hurts _ , and he can’t actually make out what she’s saying. 

(Unbeknownst to Ianto Jones, Daisy’s squatting down beside him, trying to run a calming hand through his hair, but he’s writhing around too much, screaming in almost inhuman suffering, for her to get a grasp on him. She glares at the Kree through the invisible barrier, other hand curling into a fist by her side. She can feel the sudden vibrations in the cement beneath her, created by Ianto’s frantic movements; she knows just which precise frequency to reverberate the Kree Reapers’ bodies at so that their bones shatter and their brains turn to mush.

But she can’t do it. At least not yet. She  _ hates  _ the fact that Ianto, the loyal and sarcastic and kind man she’s become acquainted with in the last day, is in unspeakable suffering, but she can’t give herself away to the Kree, can’t just allow herself to be used a weapon - because that’s always what the Kree want - and place so many more lives at risk, not again.

Thinking practically, even if she does immobilize the Kree, she and Ianto would still be stuck in this prison, trapped by the energy barrier. She could bring the warehouse down, but Ianto would likely not survive. 

Instead, she hardens her eyes. “Turn it off,” she demands. “ _ Turn it off right this moment _ ! We don’t  _ know  _ who the Inhuman is; either of us could be the Inhuman. Would you really risk damaging the Inhuman like that?”

The main Kree scoffs. “Inhumans are nothing more than a science experiment, dangerous creatures that go against the laws of nature.”

She smiles chillingly, and she can feel her heart rate drop. “Yet you want an Inhuman. You want to find out which one of us is the Inhuman, so that you can use them like the weapons the Kree strove to create.” A beat of silence. Ianto continues screaming, and Daisy has to steel herself. Just a few more moments now. “Turn your weapon off  _ before you kill him _ !”

The Reaper exchanges glances with his subordinates and then finally powers his weapon down, dropping it to the floor.)

_ And then _ , suddenly, the pain ceases, and he collapses backwards, barely aware that there is something warm and solid under his head. 

Ianto can still feel the echo. His entire body is a live wire of pain that slowly,  _ slowly  _ fades from his hollow aching bones. He’s shaking uncontrollably, whimpering, “Make it stop. Please make it stop.”

Someone’s hand is carding through his hair, whispering gently to him. Is it Jack? He wants Jack. He thinks he says this.

The same person stroking his hair makes a sympathetic noise and murmurs reassuringly to him, but they aren’t Jack.

He can still remember the feel of Jack clutching him tightly against his lap, hunched and sobbing into his hair, begging him to not to leave him. 

“ _ I want Jack _ ,” he sobs, curling into a whimpering ball. He feels like he no longer exists. Is he still dead? Has the last year, Tosh and Owen, his marriage to Jack, has it all been a pipedream, a product of his feeble, death-stricken mind to find him grains of happiness before he goes?

Ianto Jones passes out.

* * *

When he comes to, Ianto finds himself laying on the floor with his head in Daisy’s lap. She herself is propped against the wall, head at a painful angle and dozing. He would flush at the intimate position, but he feels hollow and sore, his entire body a gigantic bruise, and lacks the energy.

“Daisy,” he attempts and then winces at how dry and raspy his voice is. The back of his throat burns for his efforts, but he licks his lips and only tries again. “Daisy?”

She’s an incredibly light sleeper, just like Jack and himself, and jerks away instantly. “Yeah?” The fog of sleep fades quickly from her lovely eyes as she becomes aware again and glances down, meeting Ianto’s gaze. “ _ Hey _ .” Her tone softens slightly, becoming gentle. “How are you? How do you feel?”

“Like death warmed over,” he replies slowly and then winces at his own choice of words. “What happened?”

Daisy’s expression becomes slightly strained. “I convinced the Kree that it would be more beneficial for them to leave us unharmed.” She sighs. “I only bought us some more time. The Kree will be back, and they won’t be so friendly the next time around. We need to start planning our escape.”

He nods slightly but only causes more faint jolts of pain to travel over his body. Then: “What’s an Inhuman?” Daisy doesn’t deny his assumption that she knows about Inhumans and only inhales sharply, so he repeats his question. “ _ Daisy _ ?”

“I know that you know about the Kree and their inclination to experiment on species they come across,” she begins quietly. “During ancient Mayan times, the Kree kidnapped humans and manipulated their DNA, attempting to create weapons for their war against a powerful enemy. They created the Inhumans by fusing the kidnapped humans’ DNA with their own, and these Inhumans gained abilities that are beyond human nature. Eventually, they revolted against the Kree and forced them to leave Earth.” She sighs. “Modern-day Inhumans still contain traces of Kree DNA, which can be triggered by Terrigen crystals. SHIELD has encountered a few Inhumans in the past.”

Ianto’s eyes widen. “We’ve already encountered the crystals recently; they’re-”

“Deadly to non-Inhumans, yes.” Daisy bites her lip, brows furrowing in concern. “We can only hope that the Kree don’t attempt to use them against us to force our hand.”

“But what about the murdered Kree? And the Terrigen they’ve already left in Cardiff?” He attempts to sit up and then hisses and whimpers.

Daisy hushes him gently. “We can’t do anything about that right now. Lie back down. Let your body recover a bit. The only thing we can do right now is try to get out of here.”

He obeys and slowly slips back down to lie on the floor, unable to feel ashamed about using Daisy as a pillow. Carefully, Daisy reaches over and spreads his suit jacket over his upper torso.

They lay like that in silence for a few hours. Ianto attempts but fails to doze.

“Ianto?” asks Daisy quietly. “When the Kree stopped torturing you, you were crying for Jack.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” he replies.  _ I hadn’t realized _ , he thinks detachedly, but in retrospect, it makes sense. He could have sworn that he was back in Thames House, dying in Jack’s arms.

She hesitates, and curiously, he glances up to study her face. Her expression is soft and reluctant, but there’s nothing stopping her from asking what’s weighing on her mind.

Finally: “What’s it like to love an immortal?”

Ianto doesn’t bother denying Daisy’s assumption about Jack; it’s true, she’s clever enough to see through an excuse, and after their hours together, it would be unfair to lie. “The thing about Jack is, he can’t die. Not permanently. He will die, but he’ll come back to life, and that means that’ll effectively live forever.” A beat of silence. Daisy doesn’t respond, waiting for him to continue. “Jack’s from the future, you know. He’s travelled through time and space and seen things beyond our wildest imaginations that make you wonder why he chooses to stay in dreary Cardiff.” He licks his lips again. “Some days, I wake up and think,  _ What’s the point _ ? Jack’s a constant of the universe. One day in the not-so-distant future, I’ll die-”  _ again, _ “-and he’ll be alone before he falls in love again with someone better and brighter than me. Then he’ll forget about me.” He smiles bitterly. “But at least I’ll have known what it was like to be loved by Jack Harkness.”

Daisy’s eyes are bewildered; he can tell that she still doesn’t understand. “What is the point then? Why do you love him? Why do you stay with him knowing that ultimately it’ll only cause him pain?  _ Why did you marry him _ ?”

“Have you ever loved anyone, Daisy?” asks Ianto conversationally. “Loved them so much that you would move the moon and stars for them? Loved them so much that they would do the same for you?”

He can hear himself in his head, so many years and a lifetime and a death ago:  _ I'm not giving up on her. I love her. Can you understand that, Jack? Haven't you ever loved anyone? _

For a moment, he thinks he’s struck her speechless. Then Daisy blinks, and he can see the unshed tears glimmering on her lovely lashes. She’s bitten her bottom lip bloody, he notices. 

“I have,” she replies, and Ianto finds himself suddenly breathless by the  _ absolute yearning _ in her words. “His name was Lincoln. I loved him and lost him before I even knew that I did.” She swallows roughly, the sound audible in the silence between them. “He died saving the world and telling me he loved me for the first time, and it tore me apart. I haven’t loved like that again, and I don’t know if I will be able to.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . 

Ianto breaths out painfully, chest heavy with emotion. She’s so  _ young _ ; so is he. Perhaps neither of them were cut out for this life. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” he repeats numbly and then scoffs. He hopes it doesn’t sound too unkind. “Before Jack, I had a girlfriend. Lisa.” He doesn’t speak of her much nowadays, and he finds that the sound of her name still sends a pang of grief through him. “We worked together at Torchwood One.” He sighs. “During the Battle of Canary Wharf, she was partially converted into a Cyberman, a former human upgraded with cybernetic parts. We were some of the few survivors. I swore that Lisa was still in there. So I seduced Jack for a job and hid her in our basement, trying to turn her human again. Then she broke loose and killed two people, so Jack-” He digs his nail into the fleshy skin of his palm and allows the pain to ground him. “Jack shot her dead in front of me.” He ignores Daisy’s sharp inhale. “Despite that, I fell for Jack.”

He can’t do it anymore. He slowly slips from Daisy’s lap and uses the wall to prop himself up, hobbling down the length of their cell until he can rest his back against the wall and stand with his arms crossed against his chest.

“I died,” Ianto tells her. She’s openly weeping now, tears silently drifting down her face in a stream, but she makes no move to wipe them. He can feel the emotion clogging his own throat and the tears prickling in his eyes, but he needs to get this all out before the tears begin to flow. “I died in Jack’s arms. Over a decade ago. We were trying to save the children from the 456, and the 456 gassed Thames House. I told Jack I loved him, but he told me,  _ Don _ ’ _ t _ . He thought that if I didn’t say it, I wouldn’t die.” He shivers. “But I came back.” He smiles softly at Daisy. “Out of all people Jack’s ever loved in all the years he’s lived, I’m the only one who came back to him. That’s why he stays. That’s why I stay. Because I got a second chance with him. Whatever happens after I die, whoever he loves, it doesn’t pertain to me as long as there is someone to love Jack Harkness. But for now, there’s me. And that’s all I need.”

With the end of his speech, he feels emotionally drained but lighter, like a huge weight’s been lifted from his chest, though his entire body still hurts. But after a whole year, he did not know how much he needed to get that out, how much he needed to say it to someone who was not Jack or Gwen or anyone else in Torchwood.

Maybe he needs a therapist, he thinks as the tears begin to stream freely down his cheeks. He can’t keep standing, so he hobbles back over to Daisy and slowly lowers himself to his knees. He wraps his arms around Daisy and despite the snot, allows her to tuck her head against his chest. He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of her head.

They cry openly but silently.

* * *

Later, when the tears have been shed and there are no more left to flow, they sit like that, wrapped in each other’s arms. They seem to have left boundaries behind now. 

“You’re not the only person I know who died and came back to life,” says Daisy, head nestled against Ianto’s shoulder. “Coincidentally, he wore suits too.”

“Hazards of the workplace,” suggests Ianto teasingly. “Although for someone who pretends to be authoritative, I seem to have problems with authority.”

“Ah, yes, your goth phase is a prime example.”

Ianto prods her slightly. “No, not that. My old boss at Torchwood One probably wiped my memories too many times. My early twenties are pretty hazy. But then at least, Yvonne wanted the best for the UK. I had a temporary boss who dated me and tried to turn us all from pencil-pushers into soldiers because she wanted revenge on certain aliens.”

Daisy winces. “We were originally a small team. When SHIELD fell, we were all that was left. My SO turned out to be HYDRA.” She shivers. “I trusted him, and I was developing feelings for him.” She sighs. “That’s gotta be the worst breakup. When a boy you like turns out to be a Nazi.”

“ _ Ouch _ .” He hums contemplatively. Sensing that the mood has turned somber, he offers up an anecdote. “I got turned into a woman once.” Daisy chokes. “Jack was so excited.”

She can’t stop or hide her giggles. “I can imagine.” Then she turns serious for a moment. “I don’t know what the Kree have planned,” she admits. “We’ll just have to make our move the moment the Kree drop the barrier and hope for the best.”

Ianto nods. “They’ll have to do it soon. It’s been about a day and a half; if they don’t want us to die, they’ll have to feed us. And they can’t do that without lowering the barrier.”

* * *

Turns out, when the Kree finally do return, it’s not to feed them breakfast.

Ianto and Daisy are dozing against the wall, using each other as a pillow, when the other side of the barrier flares to brightness again.

They startle awake, ducking their heads, and after suffering through the momentary bout of blindness, Ianto’s on his feet again, inches away from the barrier, arms crossed across his chest. Daisy is not even a half-step behind him.

It’s the same three Kree as before, but this time, they’ve lugged in a large, black sleek case between them. With growing dread, Ianto recognizes the case as similar to one that had housed the Terrigen crystals from the field.

To mask his fear, he turns to Daisy and murmurs, “Looks like they haven’t brought us a meal.”

She smiles slightly, and he knows she’s seen the crystals. “Shame. I have a hankering for pancakes.”

“ _ Enough _ ,” the middle Kree growls. “We have run out of patience for your foolish human actions.”

“Pity,” Daisy shoots back, “I’ve got a queue of about a dozen foolish human actions.”

Ianto barely manages to hide his smirk.

The Kree only lifts his weapon higher, and Ianto hates himself for it, but he responds instinctively, taking a half-step back, a flare of pain sparking up his spine.

He’s been subconsciously trained, he muses.  _ Like Pavlov’s dog _ .

“You’ve forced our hand,” the Kree says, “so we’re forcing yours. Either neither of you is aware of your Inhuman nature, or one of you is lying, perhaps even to the other.” He shrugs, his armor creaking with the movements of his large shoulders. “It won’t matter anymore. Soon one of you will be dead while the other will go through Terrigenesis.”

Ianto knew it was coming, but when the Kree announces his plan, he still feels his stomach swoop unpleasantly. 

“Nothing to say?” taunts the Kree. Fueled by their silence, he takes a step forward and then another. He smirks.

With a crackling sound, the barrier flares red before slowly fading as it is lowered. 

As the last of the energy dissipates and before one of the subordinate Kree can unlatch the case of crystals, Daisy cries, “ _ Now, Ianto _ ,” and then she lunges forward towards the Kree, lashing her legs out between the Kree’s with an incredible fluid grace.

The Kree staggers but doesn’t topple, but Daisy follows her attack with a swift uppercut to his neck before raining blows on his chest. It’s apparently clear that unlike Ianto and his reliance on guns, she’s wholly well-trained in hand-to-hand combat. 

Daisy ducks a swing from the Kree. He hasn’t landed a blow on her yet, only fielding off her attacks, but despite her agility and speed, the Kree remains unswayed. She roundhouse-kicks his chest. He stumbles back, but another strike from Daisy knocks the weapon he had yet to use from his grip.

As the weapon clatters to the floor, he swiftly snatches it up. The weapon is not overtly different from others that he’s encountered over his years at Torchwood, and a trigger is always just a trigger.

He drops into a quick lunge and takes aim at the other Kree who have their weapons raised as they wait for an opening to take a shot at Daisy. With a quick squeeze of the trigger, he shoots the Kree on the right with plasma that blasts a rather nasty hole through his chest.

Shifting his aim to the other Kree, Ianto is forced to duck and roll when the alien shoots back at him. The blast of plasma collides with the brick of the wall behind Ianto, sending smokey clouds of dust and plaster into the air.

He covers his mouth with his sleeve. He uses the other to take a one-hand shot at his attacker and only just clips his shoulder. Thankfully, the Kree stumbles backwards, leaving him open for another blast of plasma to the head.

Ianto tries not to cringe at the splatter of blue blood and body matter he’s created. 

Daisy, who had still been going toe-to-toe with her original Kree until now steps back, grimacing, and scrapes her hair from her face. The Kree has managed to land a few blows on her judging by the way she rolls her shoulder. There’s a few droplets of Kree blood scattered across her clothing and face, and her jaw has what appears to be the beginnings of a pretty impressive bruise. She grins savagely at the Kree. “I’m not done with you yet!”

“You dare attack a Kree Reaper?” he hisses, mouth twisting into an ugly snarl. 

Daisy scoffs. “Dare?” Her smile only widens, sending shivers down Ianto’s spine. He has his weapon focused on the Kree but doesn’t dare pull the trigger, entranced by the scene before him. “I’ve  _ killed  _ a Kree Reaper before. Several actually. It’s easier than you think!”

Evidently enraged, the Kree roars animalistically, almost like a Weevil. He swings his weapon downwards, likely intending to bash Daisy’s skull in.

Before Ianto can yell a warning or even shoot the Kree, Daisy straightens up and lifts her arm, palm facing outwards. Then there’s simply an odd  _ warbling  _ sound, and he watches in morbid but wary fascination as the air before Daisy’s hand begins to visibly ripple outwards, vibrating and growing in magnitude as she seemingly directs a shockwave toward the Kree.

It hits him in the chest, and he rockets backwards, body falling limply against the concrete floor. Quickly, he recovers and attempts to wriggle to his feet, but swiftly and savagely, she targets his neck until there’s an audible  _ snap _ . Ianto winces; the Kree slumps back to the cement, dead.

Ianto briefly gapes at Daisy but forces his mouth shut with an audible  _ clack _ as she coolly turns to face him. He’s seen more incredible things from the Rift, but having spent the last day-and-a-half “bonding” with her, this was not something he was expecting. Distantly, his brain acknowledges that she’s just as powerful and dangerous as a Kree and that he should be drawing his stolen weapon on her, but he only allows his expression to harden. “ _ You’re the Inhuman _ ?”

“Yes.” Her fierce expression doesn’t waver.

Ianto’s own voice drops to a whisper. “You allowed the Kree to  _ torture  _ me?” For the briefest minute, his vision swims before him, and he can feel an echo of his cells burning. Something heady and bitter fills his veins, flooding his mouth; it tastes like betrayal. Then in a moment, it’s gone, and he’s calm again. “To save your own hide?”

She shakes her head, and some of her locks dance with the movement, obscuring her features momentarily. “I’ve been in positions before where I wasn’t in control of my actions.  _ Quite literally _ . I was brainwashed by a monster.  _ I was directly responsible for Lincoln _ ’ _ s death _ .” She sighs, meeting his eyes. Her gaze is sincere but unapologetic. “I could quake the Earth apart if I wanted to.” A beat. “I’m sorry you suffered, but I’m not going to apologize for trying to keep innocent people safe.”

_ Try icing that on an apology cake _ , Ianto thinks numbly.

Daisy must see something in his expression that he hasn’t managed to mask, because she speaks again, and her voice becomes slightly pleading. “C’mon, Ianto; you told me that how your boss used to wipe your memories. Surely you of all people  _ must understand _ what it’s like to have your mind invaded, to no longer be in control of your own actions and to hurt people? You must be able to understand why I would want to prevent that.”

He does know. He does understand.

A detached part of his mind thinks back to those forty-eight hours that he, Jack, Gwen, Owen, and Tosh were all missing. The way for several days after that he had horrible migraines. How it felt like something had crawled under his skin and stuck there and now he couldn’t shake it free. How he would occasionally get bouts of deep and dark rage and aggression he had never felt before and would see flashes of a dirty, raintrodden alley. 

“You’re right,” he says hollowly. “I can understand that.” His mouth continues speaking without his brain’s permission. “I won’t say that I forgive you, but I won’t hold it against you. Being forced to make difficult decisions is a characteristic of this job.”

She nods. “I don’t need your forgiveness. If I spent all my life waiting to be forgiven by everyone I had wronged, I wouldn’t be getting anywhere. I can live with that, just knowing that you understand.” She glances down, fixes her gaze on her boots. She barks a laugh. Tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear. Then she glances back up again, and her expression has shifted, become a bit lighter. “Now, pick up that weapon. We don’t have time to waste. We have to blow up some more Kree and get you back to your husband!”

* * *

The sliding panel located on the far side of the large space beyond the barrier has no easily accessible lock that Ianto can attempt to tamper with, but its alien metal is apparently quite flimsy when Daisy blasts it backwards. He stays behind her to take advantage of the coverage the crumpled door provides. 

She steps forward through the empty doorway with Ianto only half-a-step behind her, and they discover four Kree with their plasma weapons pointed straight at them. Ianto carefully lifts the two weapons he’s holding and points them to a Kree of either side of him.

“Um, hi!” says Daisy and offers a sheepish little wave.

“Fire!” growls one of the Kree in response, and Ianto watches his blue finger flex over the trigger of his weapon.

Daisy shakes her head. “Sorry, boys.” She lifts both hands and faces her palms outward, and slowly the sleek metal of the weapons crunch and warp inwards until said weapons become functionally useless. 

Without hesitation, Ianto follows her up by taking out the two Kree in his with single blasts to the head. She takes care of the other two, snapping the legs of the nearest Kree with a quick directed shockwave before launching into a volley of punches against the remaining one. 

This Kree is not so easily staggered as the rest and lashes out, grabbing Daisy by the throat and brutally squeezing.

Ianto takes aim with one of his weapons, but Daisy, wheezing and kicking against her attacker, subtly shakes her head. 

He ignores her cue and shoots the Kree’s legs into a splatter of gore. The Kree releases Daisy, who crumples to the ground, before turning to sneer at Ianto only to be shot point-blank in the face. He slumps to the floor, dead.

Rubbing her throat and grimacing, Daisy manages to pull herself to her feet. “I had him,” she rasps.

“No,” Ianto tells her. “You didn’t. He was asphyxiating you, and unlike Jack, you would not be able to come back from that.” He eyes the now-useless weapons scattered around the dead Kree. “And you could have at least spared us a few weapons.”

“You have two.”

“And you have none.”

Daisy smiles wryly, shaking her hair out. “If I need a gun, I’ll take one,” she says, and Ianto gets the feeling she’s quoting someone who he’s never met. Her hair keeps falling onto her face, and she keeps batting it away. “Do you have a hair tie?”

“Does it look like my hair is long enough for me to need one?”

She rolls her eyes. “It was worth a try.”

“I have an actual tie. Would that help?” he offers, and she watches incredulously as he reaches into his pocket for the aubergine tie he had unknotted and stuffed in there hours ago. “Don’t damage it. It’s one of my favorites.”

Daisy chuckles, taking it from his hand. “If you weren’t already married, Mr. Ianto Jones, I would have married you on the spot.” She gathers her hair in one hand and wraps it up into a makeshift ponytail, knotting it securely with his tie.

“Pity.”

“Let’s go, buddy.” She moves past him, slapping him on the back before heading past the dead Kree.

At least she didn’t slap him on the arse, he muses, like Jack would have.

* * *

The room they emerged into proves to be empty, as do the next two as Daisy and Ianto attempt to traverse the warren layout of the building they are trapped in.

“Will we ever find an exit?” Daisy asks, becoming increasingly frustrated.

Ianto’s more concerned with the lack of Kree they’ve encountered, which he points out to Daisy. In response, she furrows her eyebrows in concern.

“You’re right,” she muses. “SHIELD had been tracking a few Kree, but most of the time, we’ve only encountered one or two at a time.” She tilts her head consideringly. “Except for the Lighthouse.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” he tells her.

“Good idea.” She hums. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll just see who we come across.”

The next room they encounter isn’t empty. There’s several stacks of cases of Terrigen crystals but again no Kree.

“Yeah, this is starting to get a bit weird,” Daisy admits. “I’m starting to think that these Kree aren’t from the present. Or even from the Lighthouse.” At Ianto’s bewildered expression, she sighs. “A dystopian future seventy-five years from now where the Earth was destroyed and the Kree took over what was left of humanity.” A beat. “We diverted that timeline.”

“ _ What the fuck _ ?”

“Exactly.” She sighs again. “Their technology is definitely more advanced than I’ve ever seen. I think these Kree are from the future, maybe way in the future but not far enough that they forgot about the Destroyer of Worlds.” 

Ianto whirls back around to face her. “Wait, so did you actually…?”

“No, I didn’t destroy the Earth, though I probably could,” Daisy says, and a shadow passes over her face. She drums her fingers against her thigh. “I just don’t know how the Kree could have gotten to our time period.” She then mutters something about a monolith.

“The Rift isn’t an option,” he says, “but other methods likely exist.” He just doesn’t think that a bunch of Kree got their hands on Vortex Manipulators like Jack’s or John Hart’s. A TARDIS is also not an option. 

“It’s not just the Kree,” Daisy adds. “We finally managed to open the ship and may have released another alien species on Cardiff.”   
  
“ _ Splendid _ .” Ianto sighs. “You couldn’t have mentioned this before?”

“Was a little busy trying to get away from the Kree.”

He begins to pace. “Okay, so that’s another problem we’ll have to deal with once we get out of here. But considering how the energy signature of the dead Kree matched that of the ship, this new species is probably also tied up with this.” He turns back to Daisy. “Do you know how they were?”

Daisy shakes her head. “That’s the problem. Fitz opened the ship and then found himself missing about several minutes of his memory. There was some footage missing from our cameras too. I don’t think we’ll be able to remember these aliens.”   
  
If he weren’t holding two guns, he’d throw his hands up in frustration. “Great! How are we supposed to fight aliens we can’t remember?” He growls slowly. 

He could really murder a coffee. Or a Kree.

“Here’s the thing,” she replies, watching him cautiously. “I think we’ve already encountered them. I don’t really remember what happened in the alleyway  _ after  _ the Kree showed up. I don’t even remember them knocking us out. I just remember waking up next to you.” There’s a pause. “Do you?”

Ianto thinks back as far as he possibly can and quickly realizes that she’s right. He remembers arriving in the alley and then bickering with Daisy. Then the Kree surrounded them, and he drew his gun. And then nothing. His next memory is waking up in this warehouse.

“Fuck,” he says hoarsely. 

Daisy nods. “Exactly.”

“Well…” He lifts both his weapons. “There’s only one thing left to do.” He tosses one to Daisy, and this time, she grabs it and doesn’t protest. “We soldier on.”

_ I didn’t survive Torchwood One, watch Lisa die, die myself, come back, and marry Jack just to die again as an amnesiasc in a warehouse _ , he thinks.

* * *

They proceed through the next few rooms cautiously, back-to-back and weapons trained on opposing corners of the room.

“How many rooms are in this place?” Daisy asks. “I feel like we’ve been through at least five or six.”

“I couldn’t know,” Ianto replies.

After another few minutes, as they continue onwards, she speaks again, “Did you grow up in Cardiff?” When he doesn’t reply: “Just trying to make conversation.”

Ianto sighs. “Yes.” He doesn’t know why he bothers; they both already know each other’s backgrounds. They had to find out when their respective organizations looked each other up.

“Any family?”

“An older sister. Rhiannon. She lives nearby. I also have a brother-in-law Johnny who I try to forget. A niece Mica and a nephew David. I haven’t seen them since I came back. They still think I’m dead.” It’s not that Jack didn’t offer to tell them that Ianto was alive again; he just didn’t know how to face his sister and tell her the truth. So he...just didn’t. “And before you ask, my dad was...difficult. He’s dead now. So’s my mum. Cancer. About a decade ago.” 

“Oh.” There’s a pause of silence. “I’m sorry,” she offers. “I know a bit about messy parent relationships. I grew up in an orphanage.”

Despite knowing this already, he apologizes.

She shakes him off. “No, it’s fine. Turns out…” Another pause. “My mom was a bit like Jack. She lived for...I don’t even know how long. She was also an Inhuman; she could absorb people’s life forces and use that to heal herself. HYDRA captured her and tortured her to death trying to find out her powers, but my dad was a doctor, and he fixed her, but they lost me. My dad went a bit berserk looking for me. He turned himself into a monster trying to turn himself into an Inhuman.” She inhales sharply as they circle the room. “When I found my parents, my mom tried to kill me. My dad killed her.”

“That’s…” He grasps for words.

“Fucked up?” She laughs weakly.

Ianto nods. “Honestly, yeah.”

“I’ve learned,” Daisy says wryly, “that the most important family we have is the one we make ourselves. SHIELD’s mine. I’m guessing Torchwood is yours.”

“That’s a succinct way of putting it.”

* * *

Then they slip through another door frame and into a new room, and Ianto swings around, careful with Daisy at his back, and baulks.

His weapon is aimed at a greyish humanoid creature standing about as tall as the Kree. Its head is bulbous and lacks a mouth, and it has small dark eyes set deep into the recesses of its skull. It’s wearing flowing black robes with a white collar that is reminiscent of a confessional priest from the days that Ianto used to be forced to go to the church as a child. Somehow, it speaks in a deep, raspy rattle: “ _ The Inhuman. Which is the Inhuman _ ?”

“ _ Christ _ ,” says Ianto in response and immediately blasts the creature dead.

“Ianto?” Daisy asks hurriedly, facing the opposite wall. “What was that? What happened?”

“Nothing,” he replies hastily, feeling perturbed.  _ Keep staring at the alien, keep staring at the alien; you don’t want to forget it _ . “It was one of the creatures. I killed it.”  _ Keep staring, keep staring _ .

“We have to be careful about our next steps,” Daisy says. “We can’t forget, or we’re fucked.”

Ianto’s eyes burn from being fixed on the dead alien for so long. He needs to blink, he needs to blink, but he can’t. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he hisses.

There’s an odd clicking sound, and immediately, Ianto can’t help it. His eyes leave the alien as he turns-

Ianto stands, weapon lifted, but he can’t remember moving. Daisy’s no longer back-to-back with him, and her own weapon is pointed toward a specific corner of the room. 

“Don’t take your eyes off him!” she tells him.

“Got who?” he asks, bewildered. 

“The alien! The one you killed,” she cries. “Fuck. You forgot!” There’s another rattling sound, and swiftly, she aims her weapons and blasts away in the direction of the noise.

Ianto glances over and spots the two greyish bodies at Daisy’s feet, and then he  _ remembers _ . The creature he killed. They can’t take their eyes off them, or they’ll forget.

“New plan,” Daisy proposes, voice steady. “Can you hit your targets without looking at them?”

“Mostly.” He would have been better if Jack didn’t try to distract him every time he went to the gun range.

Daisy nods. “Mostly will have to do.” She sighs. “We can’t keep looking at them; we have to keep moving. We can’t risk forgetting and remembering again.” She snaps her fingers. “So we keep staring straight no matter what. Shoot anything that gets in your way, and if it doesn’t, do your best to shoot it without looking.”

“Side-by-side?” Ianto asks.

“Side-by-side,” Daisy agrees.

“But how will we know once we stop looking at the creatures?”

“Let’s hope we’re smart enough to just shoot!”

They move to reposition-

Ianto finds himself standing besides Daisy, their shoulders brushing. They’re facing towards the rest of the room, their guns raised.

“What happened?” Daisy’s words are hasty and concerned; she looks a whole shade paler. “It’s like we’re in a jump-cut.”

“The creatures,” Ianto gasps, swallowing roughly. “It has to be. They’re messing with our memory.” A beat. “We gotta keep going.”

They advance forward together like two soldiers marching in rhythm. Jack is his captain, Ianto thinks ironically. 

Not even a dozen of their steps later, two greyish humanoids in strange black robes burst into the room, and Ianto  _ remembers _ .

“The creatures,” he murmurs to Daisy, and she nods in understanding.

“ _ Get back to your cell _ ,” one of them rattles.

“ _ Give us the Inhuman _ ,” says the other.

“Excuse you,” Daisy replies indignantly. “I am not going anywhere.” 

Eyes wide but weapon fixed, Ianto watches, horrified, as one of the creatures lifts its strange four-fingered hand, sparks flying and growing at its fingertips until they form a wave of blue electricity that sweeps towards them.

Immediately, Daisy and Ianto lunge in opposite directions. The electricity burns the cement at their feet, leaving a scorch mark. 

Daisy blasts a shockwave towards the creatures. As they stumble backwards, he strikes each one in the chest with consecutive plasma shots from his weapon.

“Back together,” she gasps, and they scramble to each other’s side, inching forward until his eyes leave the bodies as much-

They’re standing next to each other in front of the sliding panel that leads out of the room. Somehow, they’ve traversed the entire room in seconds. Ianto doesn’t even remember moving. It feels like someone’s been rooting around in his brain, and he doesn’t like the sensation; he feels invaded.

Daisy manages to tear some of the bricks from the wall with the force of her power as she crumples the panel down enough for them to clamber through. They find themselves facing several rows of greyish humanoid creatures, at least ten or twelve in number, and for the third time, he  _ remembers _ .

Christ, his head is beginning to ache. He misses Jack like hell, and he just wants to get out of here.

The creatures are all growling, those rattling and clicking sounds buzzing around them. He can see blue sparks of electricity beginning to glow at their fingertips.

“Get down, Ianto,” Daisy orders and pushes him back under the doorway, shoving her own weapon into his other arm. “Hold on. Take cover.”

“ _ What _ ?”

And he holds both weapons uselessly, watching as she kneels down and thrusts her hand to the cement. Ianto can feel the ground beneath his feet begin to ripple at first, the vibrations growing larger and larger until his feet are nearly lurching out beneath him, but he stays pressed against the door frame, the brick snagging on his dress shirt, likely ripping more holes in it. 

Most of the earthquake - because that’s essentially what it is! - is concentrated towards the creatures, Ianto only feeling the aftershocks. The cement begins to crack and crack until - ultimately - jagged pieces protrude upwards, the ground warped under Daisy’s power. The creatures are knocked off-balance, dust and concrete chips washing up cloudily into the air that’s already rippling and  _ warbling _ .

_ Christ _ , Ianto thinks. Daisy is a force of nature,  _ quite literally _ .

With the creatures down or stumbling, they move in like predators. Ianto picks them off quickly with either of his weapons, blasting their bodies into bloody gore. Daisy shatters bones - be it legs or rib cages - and snaps spines and necks.

There’s enough of the creatures that their eyes never leave one as they tread carefully through the room, watching their feet, stepping only where it’s stable. They don’t forget, and they reach the end of the room, but then their eyes have left-

They’re facing the opposite side of the room. Ianto doesn’t remember moving. It has to be the creatures. Have they finally come across them? Wordlessly, he reaches for Daisy’s hand, squeezing it once before dropping it.

He whirls around to face the rest of the room and  _ remembers _ . The creatures!

Ianto turns back-

He startles. He’s facing the other side of the room again. 

Daisy takes his hand and squeezes. He remembers doing that himself only a moment before.

“It’s fine,” she explains softly. “It’s just the aliens.”

“I bloody hate this,” he murmurs back, relishing the warmth of her skin brushing his. Being married to Jack, he’s become used to being more tactile. 

Briefly, he wonders if Daisy would agree if he invited her to Jack’s and his bed. He’s seen the way she looks at Jack occasionally, and she’s gorgeous. They’re also no strangers to threesomes or foursomes - and on one memorable occasion, an orgy; Jack would take some convincing after being rubbed the wrong way - innuendo  _ not  _ expected; he isn’t Jack after all - by Daisy, but he wouldn’t mind in the end.

But the thought flees his mind as quickly as it enters. Now is not the time for such thinking. They need to get out of here. He needs to find Jack.

“Next room?” he asks her, and she nods. 

She lifts a hand and blasts the door panel away, but instead of the dimly-lit view of the next room, there’s bright sunlight flooding in and invading Ianto’s eyes.

* * *

Once their eyes have adjusted to the sudden light, they stumble outside and find themselves in a sandy outcropping in seemingly the middle of nowhere, fields stretching away on either side of them for miles to see. There is no city or skyscraper in sight.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” Daisy questions, glancing around again as if there’ll be a new clue of their whereabouts or they’ll see someone else.

Ianto shakes his head. At least there are no more Kree or any more of those aliens around. He blinks, and suddenly, the adrenaline that had been fueling him for the last few hours, surging through his veins, fades. The exhaustion and hunger hits him like a freight train. He feels dizzy and sways on his feet.

The next thing he knows, Daisy’s pressing down on his shoulders and forcing him to sit on the ground besides her. She pulls his head onto her shoulder, propping herself against the outside wall of the warehouse.

“I don’t know how you were still standing,” she says. “I’m nearly dead on my feet.”

“I don’t know either,” he murmurs into the stained and dirty leather of her jacket. He misses Jack’s addictive pheromone scent. Daisy smells like dirt and sweat and generally unwashed human, but underneath all that, he thinks he can detect the slightest hint of a floral scent.

_ Daisy, the flower, smells like a flower _ , his hazy mind thinks before drifting away into a light doze.

* * *

“ _ Ianto _ , Ianto,” someone hisses as they shake his shoulder gently. “Ianto!” 

And Ianto snaps awake, his bleary mind taking a moment longer to come back online. Then slowly, he turns to Daisy. “What?”

Her lips are tilted into a wide smile. At some point, she’s spun her hair into a neat bun, his tie bright against the caramel locks. She points towards the sky. “Look!”

Ianto glances up. At first, he sees nothing but endless blue sky with some drifts of white clouds here and there. Then he begins to hear the silent hum of engines, and before his eyes, a patch of the sky seemingly melts away to reveal a sleek black ship that slowly dips towards them.

As the ship nears, he can make out a familiar eagle logo emblazoned on the sides. He turns to Daisy. “Is that SHIELD?”

She nods enthusiastically as the dust around them is kicked into clouds by the ship’s approach. They duck their heads and shield their eyes. “The Zephyr,” she explains loudly to be heard over the growing volume of the engines. “Our base. Our home.”

“You live on a ship?” he asks incredulously.

“Our first base was an airplane,” she tells him. “Then we were in an underground bunker, but that got blown up. Then we situated ourselves in the Lighthouse in the present. There’s still some of SHIELD there, but our smaller team travels around in the Zephyr.”

“How ironic,” Ianto says dryly. “We were in an underground base too, beneath the Roald Dahl Plass, but we also got blown up.” It’s a bitter memory that causes him to frown slightly, but not for too long because SHIELD’s here.

They’re being rescued. He’ll be able to see Jack soon.

The ship settles down in the field not too far from them, the grass stirring in its wake. Side by side, shoulders brushing, they advance towards it. Ianto keeps the weapon propped up in one arm; he can’t wait to get rid of it - likely give it to Tosh or Mickey to dismantle - and not have to see it again for a while, feeling the faint guilt at all the deaths he caused today, all the lives he’s taken, no matter how horrible Kree or other aliens were. 

The landing bay begins to lower with the faint whirring of its gear, and Daisy inches just a bit closer, restless now. They both are. Ianto begins to sway on his feet again, and it’s only her reaching out and squeezing his hand like a tourniquet that steadies him.

With the ship’s interior exposed, Ianto can see a storage bay beyond the landing bay with two vehicles parked inside. One is just like the ship, a large black sleek vehicle with the same grey eagle logo plastered on its side. The other is more familiar, a hulking SUV with TORCHWOOD plastered on one side like a fucking announcement.

The sight of it gives Ianto hope.

Then a group of people begin to advance down the landing bay, and he doesn’t need hope anymore. 

Leading the charge is Captain Jack Harkness in that ever-so-familiar-and-beloved coat, holding a gun to rival Ianto’s in size - innuendo not intended - and his eyes just a bit frenzied and furious. Behind him is Gwen in her signature leather jacket, holding a similar yet smaller gun. Her expression is grim but determined. 

The rest of SHIELD and Torchwood are spread out behind them. Martha, Mickey, Owen, and Tosh each in some kind defensive padding and holding weapons he recognizes from their armory. Agents Fitz, Simmons, Shaw, and Piper in dark clothing and defensive padding and gripping remarkable weapons of their own. And approaching the entrance of the landing bay from the back of the group is a hulking man wearing a bullet-proof vest and holding what appears to be a shotgun with an axe mounted onto the other end and Agent Rodriguez. With a startle, Ianto realizes that her lower arms and hands, exposed by her rolled-up sleeves, are entirely cybernetic.

As the metal gleams and catches the bright daylight, he remembers Lisa with a spark of alarm, but these cybernetic hands appear to be prosthetics. 

It doesn’t matter; Ianto doesn’t know if he’s seen a more bloody beautiful sight.

Jack’s turned to address the rest of the teams, and they all appear engrossed, so no one has noticed Daisy or Ianto clamber onto the loading bay until Ianto drops his weapon to the floor with a  _ clang _ .

Jack whirls around in a blur, aiming his Webley at Ianto, not the giant gun he’s already holding, he notes in amusement. 

“Don’t shoot,” Ianto says dryly, watching Jack’s expression change from alarm to astonishment before finally settling somewhere between relief and bewilderment. Then he stalks forward and captures Jack’s lips in a fierce kiss, memorizing his taste, the feel of the cotton of Jack’s shirt and the suspenders and beyond that the muscles of his chest rippling beneath Ianto’s hands, their heads tilting just a bit to deepen the angle, the thousand of other mind-blowing and reality-changing sensations that come with kissing Jack that he can’t even describe. Finally, when the need to breath presses down heavily on his chest, he leans back but still remains in Jack’s arms. “I missed you, and I have had a horrible forty-eight hours.”

Jack’s eyes widen, though he does snake a hand down to cup Ianto’s arse and his lips tilt up into a familiar smirk. “I missed you too.” The hand on his arse drifts up to gently cup his cheek, drawing a thumb slowly over his lips. 

Dimly, Ianto’s aware that Daisy’s being embraced by her own teammates, but he still swivels around in Jack’s arms. “I want my tie back,” he calls.

She cracks into a smile, wheezing. Ianto thinks she’s moments away from hysterical laughter. “I’ll get it to you soon, though you might want to burn it. I don’t think you can wash the Kree blood or gore out.” She rakes a hand through the tangled ends of her hair from where it droops out of the bun. “I’ll buy you a better one.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he tells her before turning back to Jack who is watching him with an odd mix of humor and bewilderment in his expression. “I love you,” he whispers, and then for the second time in forty-eight hours, Ianto Jones passes out.

* * *

Blearily, Ianto’s eyes flicker open. Above him is a dark blurry blob that resolves itself into a ceiling with a light fixture that’s currently turned off the more he blinks. There is a thin but soft mattress below him, a warm blanket covering him, and some kind of needle stuck in his arm that his gaze follows to an IV drip. 

He feels drowsy and relaxed, every single muscle in his body loose, and he can’t bring himself to feel alarmed that he’s once again waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. Wherever he is, it’s definitely better than the warehouse. Although Daisy is missing, and he’s gotten quite used to her being nearby.

Before Ianto can start spiraling about that, he hears slow footsteps approaching him, and then a familiar-unfamiliar face pokes into his ceiling view. Sleek brown hair, delicate features, and kind eyes.

“Mr. Jones,” the face says in an English accent, lips parting and moving too quickly for Ianto’s sluggish mind to follow them, “you’re awake!”

“I am,” he slurs. “Jack?”

“Captain Harkness,” the face calls, “your husband is awake!”

The sound of quick footsteps. Then Jack’s handsome face swims into view, creased with worry. From where Ianto’s laying, Jack looks slightly distorted, like Ianto’s seeing him through glass.

_ Hmm _ , Ianto thinks.  _ Jack would like that _ .  _ Behind glass, on display, thousands of people coming to see him alone _ . He can feel some rather kinky thoughts coming about Jack’s penchant for exhibitionism, but it’s all diverted when he has a rather sudden mental image of Jack as a giant head in a glass jar.

“Ianto!” Jack says, eyes becoming bright, like blue shiny lights. He slides his arms around Ianto’s shoulders and gently and slowly helps Ianto sit up, until he’s leaning against Jack’s front in a slumped hug. Ianto’s head is heavy and nestled against the perfect curve of Jack’s shoulder.

He finds the energy to tilt his neck until he can stare at Jack’s perfect, perfect face. Their eyes don’t exactly meet, but Ianto does try. “I told you I love you, right?” The words tumble out of his mouth like he has no control over them. Jack beams, nodding eagerly; he seems to have long gotten over his aversion to Ianto’s confessions of love. Ianto’s next words stop his smile in its tracks. “You’d make a pretty head in a jar.”

“ _ What _ ?” Jack says, startling badly enough that he jostles Ianto slightly who makes a murmur of protest. Jack presses a light kiss to the side of his neck in apology. 

“Oh, sorry.” Smiling, Simmons hurries over to Ianto’s side. “This should have him making more sense.”

There’s a sharp prick - he nearly giggles at that thought - at the base of Ianto’s neck, and then he’s struck by a sudden surge of energy. His veins burn but not painfully. He thinks he sees the color green before his brain is overcome with a staticky roaring. Then it all fades away, and he can think clearly again.

“ _ What _ ,” he says, shooting a look at Dr. Simmons, “ _ was that _ ?”

Dr. Simmons’s smile widens. “Just a little bit of a cocktail I built to wake you up after the stasis drugs we used to heal you. Mostly a blend of vitamins and nutrients with just enough adrenaline to jumpstart your brain.”

“Owen and Martha would love you,” Ianto tells her, unconsciously nestling closer to Jack. Jack’s arm only tightens around him. 

“Rest assured,” Dr. Simmons replies, brushing hair behind her ear as she glances down at her tablet, “Dr. Harper already tried his way with me.” Then she glances up mischievously. “As did Captain Harkness.”

Ianto rolls his eyes as Jack grins toothily. “What can I say,” he says shamelessly, “it’s the lab coat.” He gestures to the one Dr. Simmons is wearing. “And again, Jemma, it’s just Jack.”

She laughs. “Well, then, I would have to insist that both of you call me Simmons. No one really calls me Jemma except occasionally Fitz and Daisy.”

“Thank you, Simmons,” Ianto says. He slips from Jack’s grasp, turning to face her, surprised he doesn’t notice any stiffness. “I feel pretty much good as new. SHIELD must have some miracle drugs.”

“Well,” she replies, “there wasn’t really that much to treat. Both you and Daisy had classic cases of exhaustion and hunger, so we just let your bodies rest for about a day.”

“That was it?” he asks in disbelief, and she nods. Did the Kree’s torture have no lasting impact?

She must notice something on his face. “Daisy did mention something…” she says briefly, “but I can assure you that there was no lasting nerve damage.”

_ Not a mark _ , Ianto thinks.

“You were  _ tortured _ ?” Jack questions, his voice a near growl, and his grip on Ianto tightens.

Simmons’s brow furrows. “I think I’ll let you two talk for a bit. I’ll be back soon to bring you some food and show you where you can freshen up.” Then she flees.

“ _ You were tortured _ ,” Jack repeats, and Ianto turns back to him. Jack’s eyes have darkened. He hurriedly pats Ianto down like he’s checking for injuries, not even bothering to grope him this time. 

Ianto shrugs his hands off gently. “Trust me, Jack. I’m fine. You heard Simmons; there was no lasting damage.” He sighs, and his tone becomes dark. “Besides, I took care of the Kree. They’re nothing more than bloody bodies now.”

“ _ You were tortured _ ,” Jack repeats a third time, more softly and hushed. Ianto’s snarky response about that being all Jack can say dies on his lips when he views his husband’s devastated expression. “They hurt you, and I couldn’t stop them because I wasn’t there. I can’t stop them now, because you took care of it yourself.” He huffs a wet laugh.

“I’m Torchwood, Jack,” Ianto says a bit more forcefully than required seeing how Jack flinches, “it comes with the territory. It’s been part of most of my adult life. I’m used to it.” He softens his voice. “You can’t protect me from everything. I’m more than capable of fighting my own battles. Quite literally.”

Jack laughs again, taking a moment to compose himself. “Oh,  _ trust me _ , I know. You certainly looked capable holding that Kree weapon.” Every word drips with innuendo, and Ianto sighs. 

Trust Captain Jack Harkness to give you emotional whiplash; it seems that this conversation has been put on hold until later.

Leaning in closely, Jack starts to lay a trail of tempting kisses on the parts of Ianto’s neck that he knows to be most sensitive and that causes blood to rush south in Ianto’s body. Ianto shifts in place on the bed, but his husband doesn’t relent.

Finally, he’s forced to slip from the bed and stand inches away from Jack who pouts at him. “Not the time,” he tells Jack.

“That’s not what you say by the time I get my tongue on your-”

“Enough!” barks Ianto, and Jack breaks into a wide smile.

“Oh, I missed you,” he says. 

Ianto rolls his eyes. “What did I miss while I was sleeping?”

“Well,” Jack says. “Agent Johnson managed to stay awake a bit longer than you to inform us on both of your conditions. Now she’s resting in her own bunk with the same setup you had. As soon as she wakes up and is ready to go, we’re going to have the full briefing.”

“And our own team?”

Jack shrugs, smiling more widely. “Trying to get along with SHIELD. Tosh and Mickey are working with Dr. Fitz and Director Mackenzie to reverse-engineer the ship and Kree weapons we managed to scavenge from the warehouse. Martha and Owen are familiarizing themselves with Kree biology and history from SHIELD files.”

Ianto raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “And SHIELD is actually allowing that.”

“Director Mackenzie and I reached a compromise.” That statement is followed by Jack smirking. “As a show of our cooperation, SHIELD will be receiving an official tour of the Hub 2.0, though they have already visited us, and a gift of some items from our Archive. SHIELD will be taking most of the Terrigen crystals, seeing that we have already gotten our hands on some, though they will be loaning us the expertise of Simmons and Agent Johnson at a later date.”

“So you know?” he asks.

“About Agent Johnson being an Inhuman?” Jack asks and then nods. “Yeah, SHIELD came clean about that with her permission. In exchange, I told them about my  _ condition _ . Course, they didn’t believe me at first.” He shrugs, but when he notices Ianto stiffening, he shakes his head. “I didn’t demonstrate. We had some old footage.”

“Why?” Ianto asks softly. It’s so unlike Jack to actually tell people his secrets, especially near-strangers.

Jack shrugs again. “We’ve similar aims and the same enemies. I figured that we should start this alliance off on a good note by being forthcoming for once.” He smiles wryly. “Must be Gwen’s influence.”

“She must be ecstatic,” says Ianto dryly. “Can I shower now?”

* * *

At some point Jack must have returned home, because Ianto recognizes the fresh suit that Simmons offers him as one of his own. He showers and changes. Then he’s given a tour of SHIELD’s rather impressive ship by Simmons and is formally introduced to most of the team, which is enough to gauge some of their dynamics.

Fitz is married to Simmons, and Deke Shaw is somehow related to both of them, though Ianto is still unable to determine how. Yo-Yo Rodriguez is also an Inhuman and in a relationship with Director Mackenzie; she coolly nods at Ianto as he and Simmons pass by her in a hallway. 

In the rather well-stocked kitchen, Ianto makes himself a sandwich and is kept company by Agent Piper after Simmons excuses herself to go check on Daisy. He waves off Piper’s suggestion for tea; he still isn’t sure whether Piper is her first name or last name or a nickname. 

Jack has disappeared again to check in with Gwen and Director Mackenzie before the briefing; Ianto would feel bad about being left out of that conversation, but he’s glad to be able to get a few hours to breath and process the last few days.

He’s sitting on a chair in the kitchen, mindlessly reading through some of the less-classified SHIELD files when Daisy enters. She looks well-rested, likely having received the same treatment as he did, her hair damp against the collar of her SHIELD sweats. 

“Hey,” she says, taking a seat besides him after she procures some orange juice and a bagel for herself. “How are you holding up?”

“Splendidly,” Ianto replies, setting the tablet aside to meet her inquiring gaze. “I no longer smell nor am I dirty, and I have finally eaten.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Daisy tells him, tucking a wet lock of hair that swings forward behind her ear. “Will you be okay?”

He sighs and tells the truth: “I think so. Most of what we did really was just sitting around. The torture, the fighting back, it’s just part of the job.”

“Oh, Ianto Jones,” Daisy says, smiling sadly, “you’re a special one. You’ve got your walls up high enough.”

“I have Jack,” he says simply in reply. “Will you be okay?”

She shrugs. “I always am.”

Ianto attempts an amused smile. “Seems that we’re two of a kind.”

And that’s the end of that.

* * *

When the time comes for the briefing, Daisy leads Ianto to the main cabin. There’s not enough chairs, so Ianto takes to standing with Gwen and Owen.

“How do you feel, Ianto?” Gwen asks in concern, reaching out to him.

He allows her to hug him. “I’m fine, Gwen. I’m not Anwen; you don’t have to mother me.” He smiles. “I have Jack for that.”

“You alright, mate?” Owen asks and receives an eye roll and a nod for his concern.

Eventually, Jack follows Director Mackenzie into the cabin and leans against one of the consoles, gesturing to Ianto. When Ianto joins his side, Jack tugs him into his arms, smiling when Ianto protests. Instead, Jack pulls Ianto until his back is pressed against his front, hooking his head over Ianto’s shoulder. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah.” Ianto gives up, shoulders slumping, and leans back against Jack. “Did you?”

“Gwen brought me a pastry. And someone made some coffee, but it wasn’t as good as yours.”

“Of course it wouldn’t be,” Ianto says smugly.

Director Mackenzie claps his hands together. “Alright, everyone. We’ve got a bunch of dead Kree and some particularly nasty memory-wiping aliens running around Cardiff. Simmons, what do we know?”

Simmons steps forward. “Dr. Harper, Dr. Jones, and I were able to autopsy the bodies of the Kree, and I can say without hesitation that these Kree are not the ones we are accustomed to nor are they from the Lighthouse. These Kree have a slightly different physiology, almost as if they have evolved. With some more input from Jack, we can safely conclude that these Kree are from the future.”

“Thankfully,” Daisy adds from where she’s wedged against a wall, “they are all dead. As are the memory-wiping aliens. Ianto and I made sure of that. Ms. Sato managed to create a tracking system for the energy signatures we found on the Kree, the Terrigen crystals, the memory aliens, and the ship. If they show back up anywhere in the world, we’ll know about it.”

“What did the Kree want?” Agent Rodriguez asks. “Why the crystals? They despise Inhumans.”

“Yo-Yo has a point,” Director Mackenzie says and crosses his well-muscled arms across his chest.

“It’s really quite simple,” Daisy says. “They wanted a powerful Inhuman who they knew as the Destroyer of Worlds. They wanted me.”

“And where did you get that delightful nickname?” Owen asks dryly.

“You don’t wanna know,” Director Mackenzie tells him. “Seriously, you don’t.”

“Presumably the Kree and the other aliens wanted to use you as a weapon for whatever future they came from,” Jack muses. “Maybe one of them ended up dead because of a dispute, and that’s whose body we found.”

“Guess we’ll never know for sure,” Director Mackenzie agrees. “We can only hope that they never come back again.”


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the epilogue. I failed to realize it was so short in comparison to the last chapters....so, uh. Least it's there.
> 
> Before you proceed to the actual chapter, please take the time to donate to any of the various organization associated with [Black Lives Matter](https://t.co/HgSHvNFQbm?amp=1). If you can't afford to donate, there are ways around that or sign petitions.
> 
> Enjoy!

Any onlookers must have dropped their jaws when the blue box materializes in front of the warehouse, fading in and out with a vworp vworp of its ancient engines, until it becomes solid. One of its doors swings open inwards with a lovely creak. The blond woman who steps out will seem too young to have the impossibly ancient eyes that she does, the hem of her light grey coat barely brushing the tips of her brown boots.

The woman is met by a beautiful black woman in a doctor’s coat and a handsome man in a navy shirt and suspenders, both beaming although their eyes remain bewildered.

After the man places a loud smacking kiss on the woman’s lips, she exchanges a hug with the other woman.

“Not that I’m complaining, Doctor, but what are you doing here?” the man asks jovially.

“Martha called me, Jack,” the Doctor replies, words rapid and tinged with a Northern accent. “I’m here to help with the Kree.”

Martha and Jack exchange glances.

“Doctor,” Martha says. “I called you a week ago. We dealt with the Kree ourselves.”

The Doctor wrinkles her nose, groaning. “Oh, really? Well, that’s a pity. Sorry, the old girl has been a bit tetchy lately. I think it might have been because I forgot to clean the windows again.” She laughs brightly. “How about a cup of tea before you explain everything?”

“Let’s go inside,” Jack suggests, placing a hand on the Doctor’s lower back. 

They set off towards the warehouse, but still a yelp and a “Hand off my arse, Harkness!” can be heard along with a warm chuckle and a “Sorry!”

While the rest of Torchwood clusters around the Doctor and Ianto works on brewing her a cup of tea, Martha fills the Doctor in on all the events she arrived too late for. The Doctor’s alarmed expression changes more and more drastically as she listens. Once Martha’s done, the Doctor stands up abruptly, knocking her chair aside. 

“Sorry, Martha Jones, but I have to go deal with this,” she says before racing out of the warehouse, coat fluttering in her wake.

Ianto comes over with the cup of tea, sighing. “What do I do with this now?” he asks, Jack having already left to chase the Doctor.

“Doctor, wait!” Jack cries. “At least tell me what you know.” He grinds to a sudden halt when the Doctor turns around just at the door of the TARDIS. 

“Those memory-wiping aliens,” the Doctor explains, “were the Silents. From the Church of the Silence, which was formerly known as the Church of the Papal Mainframe.”

Jack’s brow furrows in recognition. “I know the Mainframe, but not the rest of it. And I don’t know anything about the Silents. I don’t recognize them.”

“Fifty-second century,” replies the Doctor, bouncing up and down. “After your time. And that’s the point. The Silents were originally confessional priests; you could confess your sins to them without remembering that you did.”

“But why are they here?”

The Doctor sighs, and her impossibly ancient eyes fill with torment. “Lifetimes ago, two in fact, I became too arrogant, jumping across time and space and saving lives and worlds. A faction of the Church believed that I had to be stopped, and they made it their mission to do so. They were cruel; they kidnapped and brainwashed the daughter of my then companions to train her to kill me.” She chuckles humorlessly. “I married her.”

“And didn’t invite me?” 

“It was an alternate timeline where all of time and space was bleeding together. I’m sure you were around somewhere.” The Doctor tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “The point is, they didn’t succeed. I defeated them. But before that, a group of Kree and Silents must have jumped through time and space, trying to follow the myth of the Destroyer of Worlds. They likely hoped that your friend Daisy would be able to kill me.” Before Jack can interject, she boulders on: “Don’t worry about it. The Silence will never bother Torchwood or SHIELD again. I will make sure of it.” 

“Doctor,” says Jack futilelessly.

Freezing from inside the TARDIS, the Doctor turns and gives him a bright smile. “I owe this to you, Captain Jack. I was wrong about you before. You may be an impossible thing, but you’re not wrong.” Jack smiles weakly, though his eyes are haunted. “Consider this me trying to make up for my mistakes.” She sighs again. “Besides, in about a year, you’ll give me a very important message.”

“Why?”

“Because you already did,” the Doctor replies. “And soon, I will be able to thank you for it.” 

Then the TARDIS door swings shut, and Jack steps back. He watches the TARDIS dematerialize with the familiar sound of its engines.

Finally, Jack drags a hand over his face, laughing. “Well, that’s a time paradox for you.” He smiles. “Welcome to life at Torchwood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking along with the journey. This was all I had originally written, but I do have a few more ideas. If you're interested in seeing what SHIELD and Torchwood got up to while Daisy and Ianto were fighting Kree or you have ideas of your own that you'd like to see both teams get you to, drop a line in the comments!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik) to let me know how much you liked this fic or request a prompt. Also, please comment or drop a line below even if it's to telling me how you've been doing. I thrive on kudos and social interaction, especially in this day and age.
> 
> Also, please take the time to donate to any of the various organization associated with [Black Lives Matter](https://t.co/HgSHvNFQbm?amp=1) or sign petitions.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik) to let me know how much you liked this fic or request a prompt. Also, please comment or drop a line below even if it's to telling me how you've been doing. I thrive on kudos and social interaction, especially in this day and age.


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